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GKINOEH papers; 


2 . “21 

BY MARY KYLE DALLAS. 



No. 74. 


NelWYork 
-^TREET- a^SMlTH. PUBLISHERS- 

^ ROSE STREET. 



AN ENTERINB WEDGL 


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THE SKLECT SERIES. 

A WEEKLY PUBLICATION. 

Devoted, to Grood Deading ia A^mericaii JB^'iction* 

Subscription Price, $13.oo Per Year. No. 74.— DECEMBER 31, 1890. 
CopyHghted, 1890 , by Street <& Smith. 

Entered at the Post Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter, 


The Grinder Papers. 

BEING THE ADVENTURES OF 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER 

WHEREIN ARE DETAILED HER NUMEROUS HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES AND 
WONDERFUL ADVENTURES WHILE ON A VISIT TO NEW 
YORK FROM THE COUNTRY. 

BY 

MARY KYLE DALLAS, 

©to. 

Come, ye long-faced and crabbed ones, 

Who groan, and sigh, and fret. 

About hard times— there’s for you 
A panacea yet. 

The Grinder Papers certainly 
Will chase your looks forlorn, 

For “ fun alive ” was ne’er on earth 
Till “ Charity ” was born. — Anon. 


NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

31 Rose Street* 

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CONTENTS: 

NUMBER. PAGE. 

I.— Charity Grinder in Town 9 

II. — Charity Grinder’s Shopping Excursion i8 

III.— Charity Visits Benjamin Cloot’s Folks 25 

TV . — Charity Grinder at a Party 31 

V. — Charity Has a Ride 41 

VI.— Charity Dines at the Kittikins’ 50 

VII. — How Charity Cleared up a House 58 

VIII. — Why Charity Remained Miss Grinder 65 

IX.— Charity attends a Matinee 72 

X.— Charity Makes a Mistake 80 

XL— Miss Charity Meets a Postmaster-General 87 

XII. — Charity is Economical 95 

XIII. — Charity Grinder is Poisoned loi 

Xrv.— C harity Visits the Hopkins Barkers 109 

XV.— How Charity Elopes with Colonel Katermount 119 

XVI. — Charity Goes House-Hunting 128 

XVII. — Charity Discovers a Secret 133 

XVIII.— Charity Saves Jonathan from a Designing Widow.. 143 

XIX. — Miss Grinder Eats her Peck of Dirt 154 

XX. — Charity Goes a Maying 160 

XXL— Charity Becomes a Victim 167 


CONTENTS. 


'X 

NUMBER. page. 

XXII. — Miss Grinder Detects an Atrocious Plot 176 

XXIII.— Two Epistles Dropped into a Corner Letter-Box. 191 

XXIV. — Miss Charity Speaks of Dentists 199 

XXV. — Charity Discovers More Iniquity 206 

XXVI. — Charity is the Cause of a Duel 214 

XXVII. — Charity Reveals a Family Secret 223 

XXVIII. — Charity Discovers a Burglar 231 

XXIX. — Miss Grinder Prevents a Rash Act 239 

XXX. — Charity Shops for an Umbrella 246 

XXXI. — Miss Grinder is Imposed Upon 253 

XXXII.— Miss Grinder’s Thermometer Tampered With 262 

XXXIII. — Charity Goes to the Central Park 267 

XXXIV. — Charity Performs the Part of Duenna 274 

XXXV.— Perfect Love is Offered to Miss Grinder 284 

XXXVI. — Miss Grinder Makes a Mistake 291 

XXXVII. — Miss Grinder Secures a Lawyer 298 

XXXVIII.-Charity is Engaged to a Member of the Bar 306 

XXXIX. — A Leaf from Charity Grinder’s Diary 313 

XL. — The Late Miss Grinder has Queen Emma to Tea . . . 320 

XLI.— Lawyer Perkins Winks 328 

XLII. — Charity Returns to Peekskill 334 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD. 

STREET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 23. 


£*rice« Q5 Oents. 


Some ODinions of the Press* 

^ As the probabilities are remote of the play ‘The Old nomestead’ belnff 
■een anywhere but in large cities It Is only fair that the story of the piece should 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal vvidcb 
Is not said or done on the boards, yet It Is no more verbose than such a story 
should be and It gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting tnousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tlldy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acter are here, beside some new ones. It Is to be honed that the book will make 
a large sale, not only on Its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— F. Herald, June 2d. 

“ Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ is a story'of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerat ^d home; of a grand old man. honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned In 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of counrry life, love 
and Jealousy, without an Impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
fields In every chapter. It Is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ ’’—A. F. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New TorTc Weelcly, have brought 
out In book-form the story of ‘ The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus Justifying* the foresight of the publishers In giving the 
drama this permanent fiction form.’ —A". F. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“The popularity or Denman Thompson’s play of • The Old Homestead’ has 
encouraged street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set In the same scenes and Including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book Is a fair match for the play In the simple good taste 
and real ability with which It Is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
^ey have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form.”— iV. F. Graphic, May 29. 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ Is familiar, at least by rep- 
utation, to every piay-goer In the country. Its truth to nature and Its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved In this story, which Is founded upon It 
and follows Its liicldents closely. The requirements of the stag make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brought before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life In the little New Eng- 
land towB Is almost perfect. Those 'who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent Idea of wiiat It Is like from the book. Both are free from sentlmentaDt*’ 
aad sensation, and are remarkably healthy In Albany Express, 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead' has been put Into story -lorm ana \s Is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen it the great popularity of the Brooklyn Times, June 8th. 

“The fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ Is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed It, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took In Its representation. This is the story told In narrative form as well 
as It was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they ha^e seen the 
play or National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater In New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of Its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the Incidents which have held audiences spell-bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the Innocent boy, his shame, 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, who has never had the courage to propose; 
the fall of the country boy Into the temptations of city life, and his recovery by 
the good Oldman who braves the metropolis to And him. The story embodies aU 
(hat the play tells, and all that it suggests as welL”— Kansas am Jcmmak 
lUyiTth. 


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who (if your dniiifArist does not keep tliemi vvilJ tnai‘ Beecham's on receipt of 
price — hut wiftnre fintt please mi^ntion this Puhlicatixn 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER ONE. 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER IN TOWN. 

‘‘Is this me ? I should think it was, Cousin Martha 

I always did intend to come to town, some time, but, lawful 
sakes, you may intend and intend, and nothing comes of it 
but intending ; one thing and another puts it off. The first time, 
when Benjamin went down, I had packed up to go, and the very 
day I had such a face — as big as a pumpkin — bigger than any 
Ben ever raised ; and while they were hopping 1 1 the wedding, I 
had hops to my face instead. He! he! Witty, ain’t I? — al- 
ways was a cheerful disposition: Everybody I know sets store 
by me. They do, indeed ! 

Yes, ’twas a wedding Ben was going to; Peter Tizzle, my 
cousin Sarah s first husband, was going to marry again. What’s 
that you say? How could he do it? To be sure, he! he I I 
mean she was his first wife, and he was going to take another — 
couldn’t wait a decent time, of course, though she was a good 
wife to him — never knew anything against her, only she didn’t 


lO 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


make his shirts as she ought — take up two and leave four threads, 
is the way to gather, and she didn’t. Indeed, I have seen the 
tail hems run; but, no matter; she’s gone. Well, Ihen, I didn’t 
go, though I mean to see ’em now, on account of my face, and 
so on. Once it was unexpected company, and once there was 
an accident on the road and I came back, though, to be sure, as 
I was half way there, I suppose I ran as much chance of being 
blown to atoms one way as the other. 

After that I always felt scary about this traveling, and I wouldn’t 
have come now if I hadn’t wanted a new satin ; the old one I’m 
going to quilt for a skirt. Ain’t I a dear, good, industrious crit- 
ter.!^ My underclothes do me credit, I can tell you. A dozen 
skirts, and a dozen drawers, and fourteen flannel jackets, and 

eighteen other things, all scolloped round the sleeves and 

marked with my name, besides my nightgowns. Brought ’em 
all, for I calculate to stay awhile, and city washing won’t do for 
me! 

Where’s Minty Busy, eh ? Won’t she be rejoiced to see me ? 
I keep her in such spirits, so lively, you know. If I hadn’t been, 
I’d never lived to get here, goodness knows. The most dreadful 
cabman. The moment your husband comes home, Martha, I’ll 
make him have him arrested. Man with a blue coat and a soft 
hat, and a wart on his nose. Don’t you know him ! No I Law ! 
well John will, in a minute ! 

You see, when I came to the landing I thought it was Babel, 
not New York. Such a roaring, and howling, and banging, and 
thumping, and ^^Here you are, up Broadway!” and '‘Carry 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


II 


your luggage and rattle, and scrape, and bang. I just stood 
still and wrung my hands, and says I, out loud : 

‘^What did I come here, alone and unprotected, for? Oh, 
why didn't I stay at Perkinsburg, safe and comfortable?" 

And, as I was speaking, up came this man — how queer you 
don’t know him — and says he : 

‘‘Have a cab, ma’am? Take you safe as eggs in a basket 1" 

“Merciful goodness knows I will,’’ says I, “if I can get into 
it. But what do you ask to take me to Cousin John Mawkins’?" 

“Well," says he, “to any other person I’d say twelve dollars; 
but from an old lady so like my own mother I’d only take ten. " 

“Ten dollars, just to ride to Cousin John’s?" says I. 

Says he, “Things have gone up lately." 

“Yes," says I, “they have. Butter is forty cents at Perkins- 
burg, but the stage don’t charge but eighteen cents clear to 
Sprattown. " • 

Says he, “Stages won’t take your trunks in New York." 

“Veiy^ well," says I, “they must go; couldn’t leave ’em on 
the wharf until John’s boys brought ’em up, for I’d never see ’em 
again — but ten dollars ’’ 

“Nine and a half, then," says he, “though I’ll go without 
my supper for it. " 

That I didn’t believe, Martha, do you ? 

Well, I agreed. I think I’d agreed to anything to save my- 
self from being crushed, for there was a market-wagon one side 
and a coal-cart on the other, and a carriage coming up behind, 
and four men with wheelbarrows .coming the other way, right 
down on me. 


12 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Says I, ^‘put me in, Mr. Cabman. Shut me up safe, and 
take me to Cousin John's.’^ And, before I knew it, there I was 
on as nice a cushion, with a carpet for my feet, as ever you saw. 
And he put my trunks on, and gave me my carpet-bag, and 
acted up to that time like a gentleman. But he was a rascal all 
the same, for after he’d driven me not more than two blocks 
through a place where I suppose there’d been a riot, for sugar 
hogsheads laid all about, and boxes were piled up and tumbled 
over in heaps, he stops. 

‘‘Ma’am,” says he, peeping in at the window in the roof, 
“where shall I drive to?” 

“Cousin John Mawkins,” says L 

“Where’s that, ma’am?” says he. 

“Oh, I forgot the street,” says I’ “but it’s a long one, with 
brown-stone houses and high stoops. ” 

Says he, “New York is full of such; please remember the 
name and number. ” 

“Can’t,” says I. “But I’ve got it in my brown paper parcel 
on a card. ” 

So I looked for the parcel, and, lo and behold, it wasn’t there ! 
Not on the seat nor on the floor. 

“It’s gone !” says I. 

‘ ‘ Have to think where the house is, ma^am, ” says he. 

So I thought, but it was like thinking of the multiplication- 
table when I went to school. I remembered all sorts of num- 
bers, but couldn’t tell which was the right one. 

“I’m not sure it isn’t number 25 Five-hundred-and-eighth 
street,” says I. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


n 


^^Ain^t any street of that number/' says he. 

‘‘Oh !" says I, “lawful sakes !" 

‘•‘Perhaps it's eighth street," says he. 

“No," says 1. 

Then, all of a sudden, I remembered and saw just as plain as 
day what he was doing. 

Says I, “Ain’t you ashamed, an able-bodied man like you, to 
try to cheat an old lady !" 

‘ ‘ Haven't overcharged a cent, " says he. 

“'Tisn't overcharge," says I. “You know what I mean. 
You know the city, I don’t; of course you know where John 
Mawkins lives." 

“Is he a public man?" says he 

“I should think so," says I. “Kept a hardware store for 
twenty years before he retired and married Cousin Martha. He's 
got an awful long nose, sort o' askew, and gray eyes. About 
five feet six inches, and dyes his hair. They've got a daughter 
named Minty, and they wrote to me that she was being courted 
by a young man of the name of Brown. House is brown-stone, 
with a high stoop, they tell me. Now, don't pretend any more, 
but take me there. I ain't green, if I am from the country." 

Says he — oh, what a wretch he was — 

“I can't find it unless I have street and number, ma'am." 

“You shall," says I. 

“I'm very sorry, ma'am," says he, “but, perhaps you remem* 
ber some other person you could go to?" 

“To be sure," says I. “There's Cousin Fizzle and his see 


14 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


ond wife; and my niece Amanda, married to Oliver Pedge, a 
printer ; and Mr. Twombly and his sister ; and the Rev. Ozias 
Black, if he's living ; and Miscindy Knobs, the dressmaker, if 
she hasn't caught a husband, which isn't likely, for she's as 
homely as a rail fence, and past thirty. " 

‘"Well," says he, ‘'now we're all right Where does any one 
of 'em live?" 

“Don't^^w know?" says I. 

“I don't," says he. 

“Nor I neither," says I, “unless I had my letters here out of 
the old desk at home. I calculate Martha will take me to see 
them. Come, now, you do know. Our stage-driver at Perkins- 
burg knows everybody there. " 

“This is cutting it too fat, old lady," says he. “A fellow 
can't know all New York. If you can't remember a number, 
p'raps you'll go to a hotel." 

“No," says I; “you're paid to take me to John Mawkins', 
and here I'll sit until you do. " 

At that he got into a rage, and down he climbed and opened 
the door. 

“I sha'n't charge you for these two blocks," says he. “Will 
you take your money back and get out? Maybe sitting on your 
trunks will bring back your memory, ma'am. " 

“I won't get out," says I. 

“Then you'll go to a hotel ?" 

“No taverns for me," says I. 

Then he swore — he did, indeed — right at me. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


15 


He shut the door and went away a moment, and when he 
came back a military gentleman was with him — a splendid' man, 
with a dark blue uniform, with brass buttons, and a thingumyjig 
with a chain on his breast. Says he, just like a military man — • 
rough and ready, you know — 

'‘Hallo, now! what’s the muss?"' 

Said I, "Thank you for asking, general ; its this man — pre- 
tends to be a cab-driver, and don’t know any one in New York.” 

The driver struck in then and explained matters his own way, 
and the military gentleman says : 

"My good lady, you must really go to a hotel.” 

"If it’s your advice, general. I’ll go,” says I. 

Then he says, "All right — go ahead, driver.” 

Driver says, "Take you to the Astor, ma’am?” 

Says I, "One’s as good as the other. I suppose they can tell 
me there.” 

"Yes,” says the man, and away we drove. 

Well, at the hotel out came two men and took in my things 
polite as could be, and a black man in a white apron bowed to 
me as if I was a queen. Since the abolition times there’s no 
knowing who a colored person may be, so I courtesied back, 
and says I to the driver : 

"I want my money back. The bargain was to take me to 
Cousin John’s.” 

He only put his finger to his nose and drove oflf. I couldn’t 
run after a carriage and horses, you know. So that's the last I 
saw of ’em. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


i6 


Then says I to the colored gentleman, "'You’re proprietor of 
this tavern, ain’t you ?” 

Says he, "Not exactly, ma’am, but Fm a waiter.” 

"Well,” says I, "I ain’t come to stay — only jest to ask the 
way to Cousin John Hawkins’. "Where does he live?” 

He grinned, and says he, "Look in the directory, ma’am,” 
and he brought me a book with names in it, and I turned over 
a good many pages and couldn’t find Hawkins. 

"Well,” says I, "guess it isn’t here.” 

"Every name in the city is in,” says he. 

Says I, "Fll have to stop a week to read this through. I al- 
ways thought the people at a tavern knew where folks lived. ” 

He bowed, and grinned again, and he took the book, and 
says he : 

"H, Ha, Haw 

"Hawkins,” says I. 

"Hawkins Robert, Hawkins Peter, Hawkins John,” says he. 
"Here it is, ma’am,” and out he reads the number, all right. 

Says I, "Very much obliged,” and I went to the door and 
waved my umbrella to a cabman opposite. A whole row of ’em 
stood there opposite a garden with iron railings, and a filthy, dirty 
white house with a clock on the cupola in the middle, and I 
must say the colored man was polite, all but grinning, for he put 
me into the cab. 

Just as I was getting in, he says : 

" ‘ Beg pardon, ma’am, there’s something pinned to your dress. ” 

And behold, there, fastened by a big darning needle, with a 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


17 


sealing-wax head, which I have for a shawl-pin, was my paper 
parcel, just as I had fastened it for safety, with my own hands. 

If I d had it Td have saved my money and got here two hours 
ago. This cabman only charged me five dollars, good, honest 
fellow, and he told me the other was a cheat Of course he 
^va. ! 

And here I am at last, all safe, though I never expected to be. 
And who do you suppose the military gentleman was.? Long 
browm beard, blue eyes, cap, blue coat with brass buttons, and 
a kind of a shiny thing with a chain on his bosom. Do you 
think it was General Grant, or Sherman, or Hooker.? La ! a 
police officer? Don’t say so ! Why if I had known that I could 
have had the driver taken up then, couldn't I ? What a pity I 


i8 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER TWO. 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER’s SHOPPING EXCURSION. 

Tm Martha Mawkins. Tm not particularly fond of writing. 
Nobody ever called me a blue-stocking, thank goodness. But 
when your feelings are worked upon, and your husband 
does not sympathize with you (John Mawkins never does), but 
says ‘'bother and “stuff and nonsense,'’ you naturally have 
recourse to the papers. And I have had the most terrific day. 
Tve been out shopping with cousin Charity Grinder. Yes, she's 
here — been here two days ; and if she could, she'd keep me in 
the street all the time, I believe. 

She has a yellow shawl, my dear, and some kind of a cotton- 
back velvet bonnet, made in the year one, with blue roses, and 
a ruche with a green edge (why do milliners do such things.?*), 
and a vail all big scollops, and tambour work or cotton net, just 
as brown can be ; and, oh, dear 1 oh, my ! oh ! a pair of leather 
boots, with great brass tags to the lacings hanging down them, 
and a pair of blue worsted stockings that you can see ever so 
much of, for her common poplin “gown," as she calls it, is 
above her ankles. How I feel when my friends meet usl 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


19 


'Tisn't so long since Mawkins made his money, that I quite 
dare to do as I like and be sure no one will say, ‘'You can't 
expect any better ; you know what she was used to. " 

If she only would not go to Stewart's, where there is sure to 
be some one you know, I shouldn't so much care. 

She came down dressed this morning, with her two-handled 
basket and cotton umbrella, and told me what she wanted. I 
tried to stop her. 

“You must be so tired, cousin," said I ; just give me the list 
and I'll shop for you. " 

“No," said she. “I'm a spry body — none of your lazy folks. 
I came to New York to see things, and not to sleep, and I've 
seen so much of Mr. Stewart's store. I'm bound to get a dress 
there. Is he dear ?" 

“Dreadful," said I. 

I wanted to frighten her from going. 

“Ah I" said she. “I'll beat him well down then; see if I 
don't" 

“They have only one price. Cousin Charity," cried I fright- 
ened out of my wits. 

“So they all say," said she, with such a wink; “but I know 
better. Cousin Martha. 

Well, we set out Everybody we met she would nod to, and 
then say : 

“Who's that.? Don't know, eh.? Why, what an unsociable 
place New York is. I know everybody in Perkinsburg. " 

At last we got to Stewart’s — Mrs. Nobs' carriage at the door, 


30 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


of course — and in walked Cousin Charity, tumbling over Mrs. 
Nobs, who was coming out. 

‘‘How are you, love?’' says Mrs. Nobs, never guessing Char- 
ity came with me. “I declare I’ve been trampled down by a 
great vulgar woman. Why can’t they keep stores of this kind 
more exclusive ?” 

Charity saw me talking to some one, and came back. 

“How do you, ma’am?” said she to Mrs. Nobs. “Out a 
shoppin’, I reckon. How’s calico ?” 

“The idea!” screamed Mrs. Nobs. “My love, I shall really 
give up going out at all. ” 

“Don’t you have your health, ma’am, or are you afraid of 
being run over?” asked Charity. 

I saw it was time to come to the rescue ; so I said, with a 
glance at Mrs. Nobs : 

“Miss Charity Grinder, from Perkinsburg, my dear.” 

“Oh I” said Mrs. Nobs, “I didn’t know really.” 

“How are you ?” said Charity. “Glad to know you, or any 
friend of Marthy’s. I’m her first cousin. Her father and mine 
were brothers, kept the same bakery together for ten years, and 
married sisters. After that Silas, that’s her father, went into the 
flour business and made money. I’m going to buy a dress, and 
some wrappers, and half a dozen pairs of stockings for Sunday- • 
go-to-meeting wear. Common ones I knit, but I took a notion 
to some boughten for best. ” 

Mrs. Nobs lifted her eyebrows. 

“By-by, love,” said she. She hates me like poison ; but she 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


21 


always says 'love/ 'Tm in such haste I can't stay. See you 
at the opera Wednesday, I hope;" and right glad was I to see 
her go. But, goodness ! from bad to worse was all I had to 
hope for that day. There was Cousin Charity shaking hands 
with all the shopmen at the first counter. 

"How are you ?" she said. "I don't know which is the boss, 
but Tm glad to be acquainted. Only come down two days ago, 
or I should have been here before I calculate to do all my 
shopping here while I stay, and so I came over with Cousin 
Marthy to get acquainted. " 

Then she happened to see three or four little cash boys, and 
down on them she pounced. 

"Mr. Stewart's little sons, I suppose," she said. "Dear me, 
how near of an age — some of 'em must be twins. Come here, 
my dears, and kiss me ; I am Aunty Grinder from Perkins- 
burg. " 

And she did kiss them, as true as I'm a sinner, every one of 
them in sight. People were staring at her as if she were a show. 
Then she turned to a young man who was measuring lace, and 
asked him if they "had any calico." 

"Because if there isn't any I'll come to-morrow," she said. 

' ' I'm visiting, and haven't anything to do. " 

It was an excuse to get her away, and soon she was looking at 
prints, and busy enough to keep quiet for five minutes. 

"What d'ye ask for this, now.?" said she, at last. 

"That pattern," said the shopman she spoke to, "is seventy- 
five centa 


22 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


^'Fora calico!'' cried Charity. ‘‘Well I never — that^s too 
much/' 

“We have cheaper qualities," said the young man. 

“I thought so," said Charity, winking at me. “What’s 
this ?" 

“Thirty-five cents, ma'am." 

“Pretty enough, ain’t it, Marthy?" 

“Oh, yes," said I “I'd take it." 

“Not at that price," said Charity. “Come, now — eighteen 
cents." 

“We are not allowed to abate, ma'am." 

And really, I thought that young man would choke with 
laughter ; he tried so hard to keep it in. 

“Twenty, then." 

He shook his head. 

“Well, I'll give you twenty-five, not a cent more," said 
Charily. 

“The price is five-and-thirty, " said the clerk. 

“Then I won't buy to-day," said Charity, and she whispered 
to me, “now he'll come down. " 

The clerk only folded up the goods. Charity moved away 
slowly. When she was about four feet from the counter she 
looked back. 

“Did you speak ?" said she. 

“No, ma'am,' said the clerk. 

“ Haven't changed your mind .?" 

“No, ma'am." 


t 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


n 


She went a little farther, and then went back. 

'‘I’ll take it/’ said she; “but I won't come here again. You 
ought to come down a little — I wouldn’t have been too hard to 
deal with. Even Moses Aaron, who sells snuff, comes down a 
penny a pound at Perkinsburg. ” 

She went away with her bundle under her arm, after giving a 
penny to the cash boy, and calling him a good little fellow for 
running so fast. And the next thing I knew she was walking 
into a long mirror. In fact, she came against it with such force 
that I thought it was broken at first. 

“Lawful suz !” she said, as she picked herself up. 

She had been knocked down, and sat on the floor a minute. 

“Lawful suz ! only a looking-glass. Well, it is a mercy ’tisn’t 
mashed and I all cut to pieces. Who would have thought it? 
I was looking, and looking, with all my eyes at a lady dressed 
in things just like mine, and wondering why she didn’t move 
out of the way, when up I came, bumperty bang against the 
looking-glass. Don’t mind laughing, ladies and gentlemen. I’m 
a good-natured soul, and you won’t hurt my feelings. Marthy, 
I didn’t show my ankles, did I ?” 

There was no stopping her. I just let her go, and I followed 
on as far off as I dared, and she priced everything, and tried to 
cheapen everything she priced, until she came to the elevator. 
My back was turned, when suddenly I heard some one scream : 

“Oh, Marthy, Marthy, I’m going up chimbly ! I’m going 
up chimbly ! Save me ! save me ! Oh I oh I oh !” 

And how she came to sit there I don’t know, but Charity was 


24 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


in the elevator, perched on a bale of goods that was going to an 
upper story. I was frightened for the moment, but two gentle- 
men ran up stairs to arrest the progress of the elevator, and a 
little cash boy was sent down, and when I got to the third floor 
they had Charity out, and had given her a glass of water, and 
she was thanking them and inviting them all to tea whenever 
they came to Perkinsburg. 

“Such an awful skeer,” she said, as I sat down, and for all I 
was ashamed, laughed until I cried. 

“Such a skeer ; I thought the old boy had remembered my 
sins, at last, and was now taking me up chimbly. These gen- 
tlemen say it’s only an elevator — but keep me from elevators 
forever more. 

After this performance poor Charity really was tired out, and 
and allowed me to put her in an omnibus and take her home. 

She’s home now, thank goodness, telling her adventures to 
the rest of the family while I am writing them, and I hope they 
enjoy them more than your afflicted 


Martha Mawkins. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


^5 


NUMBER THREE. 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER VISITS BENJAMIN CLOOT's FOLKS. 

How are you, Peggy? Didn't tell you I was cornin' to give 
you a pleasant surprise. Em stoppin' reglar to Cousin Sarah's, 
but I'm goin' about visitin'. How’s your ma? Washin', eh? 
Well la I I allers used to say Miss Cloot was allers washin' 
when ■ she wasn't bakin'. I find she hain't changed a mite. 
How are we all? Well I’m to be crawlin', and brother's amazin' 
smart for his age. Hain't had a rheumatiz yet. He's the oldest 
of the family, you know — twenty years my senior. 

How’s shoemakin' ? Glad to hear it's good. I shall give Ben 
an order for a pair of them long-legged boots before I go. 

Law, now, you ain't got up in this world like Sary’s compan- 
ion, hev you ? He's made a fortune, and lives in the biggest 
house I ever sot foot in, with a lot of darkies to cut around and 
bother. As for workin, I’d do all the bilin' of 'em the week 
through in one day, and like the exercise. But Sary says to be 
fashionable you've got to hev any number o' helps, and that 
culled persons is more stylish. 

You don't visit, I hoar. Lor', you'd oughter. When he sot 
up business your grandfather lent him the money. You ain't 


26 


THE GRINDER RATERS. 


exactly relatives, but his first cousin’s second wife’s brother-in-law 
married your aunt’s nephew by marriage’s daughter-in-law s sis- 
ter; so you are kinder connected in the bonds of sanguanimity, 
and orter be intimate. She’d be real glad to see you, she said, 
only she reckoned you felt sort o' sot up, and didn’t keer to cul- 
tivate sociabilitude. 

Never thought of sich a thing. Well, so I told ’em. 

Seems to me you’ve got over much room, though, and I can’t 
tell why you sot up here on the fourth floor. Kinder wears yer 
limbs out on the stairs I calkerlate. Hey I Marsy sakes ! 
Three other families in the house, du tell. They told me folks 
lived one a top of the other in York ; but I reckoned it was a 
hoax. 

Well, York ts a queer place, and now you are here. Miss Cloot, 
I’ll tell you what’s happened to me. I started out to come here 
at nine o’clock — meant to be early — and as I had shoppin’ to 
du, meant to walk it. While I’m thinking on it, don’t you never 
shop in Stewart’s — ef you know where he keeps. I went there 
with Sary, and got took up chimbly in what they called an ele- 
wator. Marsy I ever came down. 

Well, I started to walk, w4h directions writ down in my pock- 
et-book, and soon I came to the widest street you ever see — 
full of wagons, and carriages, and folks, and seen Broadway on 
a lamp-post. Saiy told me to cross Broadway, and walk along 
Grand street to the Bowery, so I knowed my road. But good- 
ness ! how was I to do it ? 

Cross I why nobody could cross without wings. Well, I stood 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


27 


staring and wondering, and my head buzzing for all the world 
like a hive of bees, when up comes a gentleman in brass coat 
and blue buttons. No, I mean t'other way, blue coat and brass 
buttons, and stands aside me. When I fust come down I took 
'em for officers in the milingtary ; but Sary says they're police- 
men. So just fancy my horror when this here one cotches hold 
on me. 

‘'Come along, mum," says he. “Hurry up, now; don’t 
poke. " 

Then I knowed I was under arrest, and began to holler. 

“Oh, I ain't done nothin'. I never did do nothin' to be took 
up for. I’m innocent as a babe unborn. " 

And I pounded him with my bag, until I reckon he was black 
and blue. 

Folks stopped and didn't say nothin'. Kinder grinned and 
stared a bit, and suddenly a thought struck me. 

They said Catholics was gainin' power in York, and this was 
a new inquisition, and they was carryin’ me off to torture as a 
martyr with thumb-screws and pincers for bein' a good Baptist. 

So with that I felt kind of inspired with zeal, and says I : 

“ Do your worst, fiend, you can’t make me remunerate; I'll 
die a saint. " 

“Is she crazy, poor dear," says a lady. 

Says the policeman : “No'm. The tarnal old goose thinks 
she's took up, because I offered to take her across, when she 
was tryin' to get herself run over. " 

Says the lady — such a nice woman with a little round hat and 
spangles in her net ; 


28 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


* ' Poor dear ; she’s from the countiy, no doubt. It’s a cus- 
tom here, ma’am, ^r the police force to escort ladies over Broad- 
way. ” 

‘ ‘ Is it, ” says I ; ^ ^ Oh, what a relief. I never was so skeered. 
Now,” says I, turnin’, on the policeman, escort me across if 
it’s your duty, and don’t give me no impudence. Mind. ” 

Then he laughed, and law how he did hustle me over, right 
under the horses’ noses, to be sure. 

But when I was safe over, that nice lady came along side, and 
says she: 

‘'Hope you ain’t none the wuss for your sheer?” 

“Oh, no,” says I, “I’m not particularly nervous, thank ye.” 

Says she, “From the country, ma’am?” 

“ Yes’m,” says I. “Du tell how you guessed it.” 

Says she, “From the quiet dignitude of your appearance. 
New York ladies has in general a sort of boldish look. Then,” 
says she, ‘ ‘ Shopping ?” 

Says I, “Yes’m, I’ve got twenty dollars along with me to buy 
some goods with. D’ye know any cheap place ?” 

Says she, “Oh, yes. Now there’s one around the corner; 
come with me. ” 

So we went, and she was so polite she offered me her arm, 
which I took. 

Pretty soon we came to a shop door, but behold, it was closed. 

“Dear me,” says she, “they must be gone out. Wait a 
minute, and I’ll run in the side door and call the gentleman’s 
wife. She’ll show us the things, though she wouldn’t everybody. 
Don’t stir until I come back,” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


29 


Well, she went away, and I waited and waited until a gentle- 
tleman from next door, in a barber's shop, came out. 

Says he, ^‘Waiting for some one, ma'am 

‘‘My sakes," says I ; “I should think I was. That lady you 
might have seen with me has gone to have the door opened ; and 
she doessX'dLY, I'll say that!" 

Says he, “A friend o" yourn?"' 

“Says I, “Well, very recent," and I told him how we came 
to be together. Then he looked solemn, and, says he : 

“Madam, have you lost anything.?" 

“Well," says I, “I hope not. Why?'* 

Says he, “I abhor speaking ill of the fair sex, but I'm obliged 
cO say, ma'am, that that lady ain't what ladies ought to be. 
She's pretty well known as a female pickpocket, and if your 
money was to be come at, she's got it. " 

I stuck my hand in my pocket, and, massy me I my purse 
was gone 1 It turned me as cold as ice to find it out, and I 
would have fainted if he hadn't taken me in his store and handed 
me a cologne bottle. 

Seemed as if I couldn't believe that magnificent critter, 
dressed like a queen, was a thief. 

I hadn't a cent left, but the barber gentleman was so polite. 
He put me on a car and paid my fare, and I asked him to Sary's 
daughter's party. That's his card : 

“MR. JAZEY, WIG-MAKER AND HAIR-DRESSER." 

And now I've come to the pint. 

Saiy^’s eldest daughter — Florabel Elizabethina — is about havin' 


30 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


a party, and I want you to come — sha'n't take no for an answer 
— the whole of you, children and all, and any neighbor you'd 
like to fetch. You'd ought to be on visitin' terms, seein' your 
aunt's nephew by marriage's daughter-in-law's sister married his 
first cousin's second wife's brother. It's night after next, and 
there's the biggest plum-cake home a'ready, and goodies’ is goin' 
to be in by wagons full. 

Du come. I'm sure my polite barber will be there, and if 
he's single he'll be a splendid match for Marthy Jane, I'll in- 
troduce 'em. 

Well, I'd like to stay to tea, but I can't to-day. They're goin' • 
to have company at Sary's this evening, and they'll want me to 
to help entertain. I'll tell you when I'll come at the party. 
Don't forget to come, and do bring the children — Sary will be 
delighted. 

Good-by ! It's the front house from the corner ; and I'd dress 
up, if I were you, in my best, 'cause they're awful stuck up at 
Sary's. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


3 ^ 


NUMBER FOUR 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER AT A PARTY. 

I wish Miss Charity Grinder would please to — well — to marry 
— I won^'t say anything worse ; and when she does marry, I 
hope it will be some reverend gentleman, who is going to India 
or some other horrid place, as a missionary, without the slight- 
est intention of coming back again. 

Poor man, what a life she'll lead him ! 

The impudence of that woman is beyond all. I never saw 
her equal. She exhibited it in the first place by coming here 
without invitation. She tormented poor sister Martha first, and 
when she was completely worn out — I always shall believe she 
gave Charity my direction — she says she didn’t ; but how could 
she get it, I’d like to know ? 

However it was, we were waked up at five in the morning by 
such a ringing of the bell, and there, if you’ll believe me, when 
I looked out of the window in my nightcap, was Charity, in the 
milkman’s wagon. 

‘‘He! he I he I” she screamed, as she looked up. “Sur- 
prised, ain’t ye, I started off early so’s to get here to breakfast, 
and on the way I met this here gentleman, and he said he 


32 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


served you, so I asked him for a lift. Sick, ain’t you? No. 
Why, law, you don’t lie abed till this time, do you ? I got up, 
darned a pair o’ stockings, patched a petticoat, and dressed an 
hour ago. I never was one of your sleepy heads, thank fortin’, 
but I suppose York folks spend the heft of their time abed. 
I’ve heer’d so.” 

And all that, my dears, before she got out of the wagon. 

I roused Mr. Perkins up, and sent him down to open the 
door, and, upon my word, the creature had ever so much lug- 
gage with her, and had come to stay a week. 

The first thing Florabella Alice said to me when she heard it, 
was : 

‘‘Oh, ma, what will we do with her at our party?” 

And I just sat down and folded my hands, for I knew Charity 
of old, and there is no managing her. 

Stay she would, and stay she did, and my only comfort was 
that she spent the time running around the streets, shopping 
and hunting up all sorts of people ; though, if I had known 
what would come of that. I’d have watched her better. Good- 
ness knows, my hope was that she would be somewhere on a 
visit when the party came off, and would not be able to get 
back ; but I might have known better. 

She kept the day and the hour in her mind, and had an out- 
landish blue and green dress made over for the occasion. The 
thing had only five breadths in the skirt, and she took one ot 
those out for waist and sleeves ; so you can fancy it. I never 
saw such a thing in all my life. However, queer as she looked. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


33 


there are almost as queer-looking people in society — literary 
folks, and musical people, and so forth. So I decided to speak 
of her as a literary lady of immense wealth, from the country, 
and to invite old Mr. Ginger, who is so deaf he would not be 
shocked by her bad grammar, and set them down to play chess 
together in the extension-room, and tried to make the best of 
the matter, though, dear knows, my heart sank, as it well might, 
at the prospect before me. 

Ours was to be rather an extensive affair, you see. Young 
Billiwinkle being particular to Florabella Alice, we thought it 
best to do something to show the Billi winkles we were able to 
cut a dash if we chose, for the Billiwinkles are very fashion- 
able, and astonishingly aristocratic, and we had (even at the risk 
of offending some very good souls) invited only our most gen- 
teel acquaintances. Not a vulgar, crowded affair, you know, 
but just a nice, elegant assemblage, with room for dancing, and 
a supper that (to tell the truth) cost much more than we could 
well afford. It was a fine one though. 

Well, the evening came, and there was Miss Charity, in her 
blue and green, with the four breadths, which I (what hypo- 
crites we are sometimes) told her was ^ ' lovely, '' and then first 
of all, thank goodness, came that blessed Mr. Ginger, and I 
had them out of sight at chess in the extension-room in a twink- 
ling. The Billiwinkles came early. Horace Billiwinkle never 
was so attentive to Florabella. I really did fancy he was on the 
very point of asking the momentous question. 

What a very fine woman Mrs. Billiwinkle looks, for one of her 


34 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


years, and how nicely she covers the bald spot on her head with 
her real lace cap ; and I really could not discover whether the 
twist was all her own or mixed. 

Young Billiwinkle walked about the parlors with Florabella, 
and Mr. McGlinderby's brother, young Ogle, offered Cornelia 
Japonica his arm, and I did think they would make the most 
charming couple. In fact, my girls were lovely, and the rooms 
tastefully arranged, and I was looking my best, and the assem- 
blage was so elegant that I actually was proud, and forgot about 
Charity, when, behold, in she stalked, and plumped herself 
down between Mrs. Billiwinkle and Mrs. Highflier, who both 
looked at her in astonishment. 

''Miss Grinder,'' I said, and whispered to Mrs. B. "A rich 
literary lady from the country. " 

" Indeed," said she. "Happy to make you’re acquaintance, 
I'm sure. " 

"Same to you," said Charity. "I've got sick of yelling at 
that old gentleman. Besides, I hate chess — only larnt it to 
keep brother Jonathan m evenings. Better than going to the 
tavern, I reckon. Because when they do go, they don't allers 
come as they went, and chess sends ’em up stairs sleepy, early. " 

"Ha, ha! so witty," said Mrs. Billiwinkle. 

Charity burst out on the instant with : 

"Excuse the question, but where did you get them teeth 

"Ma'am I" exclaimed Mrs. Billiwinkle. "I really " 

" Reason I asked is old Granny Gobble is going to get a set, 
and I thought I'd price for her, seein' I was down. Your'n is 
amazin' white. There — that's him — I know. " 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


35 


What she meant I didn’t know, but just then the door-bell 
rung, and in a minute more the colored waiter announced Mr. 
Jazey.” 

‘‘I knowed it,” cried Charity; ‘‘a friend of mine. Here, 
come in, Mr. Jazey. This here, ladies and gentlemen, is a gen- 
tleman that was very perlite to me on occasion of bein’ nabbed 
day before yesterday. I forget your Christian name, but the last 
is Jazey. I asked him up to-night partly because one good 
turn deserves another, and I thought as Florabella and Cornelia 
wears such a lot of false hair, and Mr. Perkins has a wig, 
’twould be a good thing for him to know the family. Set down, 
Mr. Jazey, and make yerself to hum. Supper is a’most ready, 
and if you are as starved as I be, you’re ready for it. But then 
we didn’t have nothin’ but cold pork and bread and butter for 
dinner tb-day.” 

The man made a bow, and sat down. He really behaved very 
well, and there was no excuse for turning him out ; and I have 
seen Cubans almost as dark. Maybe he was one. I hope so. 
But to see Mrs. Billiwinkle stare, and young Billiwinkle put up 
his eye-glass, was dreadful. Nobody spoke until the good-na- 
tured Miss Highflier suggested that ‘‘the weather was warm for 
the season,” to which the dark-complexioned hairdresser, think- 
ing he was spoken to, replied : 

“Yes, miss, I find pomatum very ily, and it does take lots of 
trouble to make straight hair wave. Excuse me, but waves 
would be exceedingly becoming to you, miss.” 

No one answered, but somebody giggled, and Mrs. Billi- 


3 ^ 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


winkle whispered something about taking French leave/' when 
the bell rang again, and there was such a hubbub in the hall 
that I thought the house was on fire. Charity clapped her 
hands. 

‘'Now there is a surprise for you," she squealed. “Jest lis- 
ten, Sary ; don't you know that voice } Come along in, Mr. 
Cloot and the hull of you," and in marched a little short man 
and a giant of an old woman, and two girls in low necks, and 
a boy of fifteen, and stood there bowing and courtesying. I 
thought I should drop. 

“This is some mistake," I gasped. “I never met those 
good people before. You are looking for some other person, I 
presume." 

“No, we hain't," said the man ; “we're old friends growed 
out of knowledge. I'm Mr. Cloot, and this is Mrs. Cloot, 
and here’s the girls and boys. We thought, seein’ you was so 
perlite as to send a invitation, we'd all come, and let by-gones be 
by-gones. Ef the old man didn't pay me for what he bought, 
'tain't your fault, and I didn't owe nobody no grudge — 'tain't my 
way. " 

And then I did remember him — that dreadful shoemaker and 
his wife. I really couldn't speak. Charity looked and grinned. 

“You’re kinder connections by marriage, you know," she 
said ; “and so, as there seems to be suthin' partickler between 
him and her, " — and she pointed to young Billiwinkle and Flora- 
bella — “all hands ought to know each other." 

Mrs. Billiwinkle gave a little scream. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


37 


so very ill, dear Mrs. Perkins, that Pm obliged to 
leave,” she said. ‘'Horace, you’ll see me home, of course,” 
and anctually the woman took her son’s arm and walked out of 
the room without another word. 

The young ladies followed, and in ten minutes those toadying 
Tibbets and Mrs. Mason Podhammer were gone also. Good- 
natured little Miss Highflier kept a good many there by remain- 
ing. I knew if she had stirred the rooms would have been 
empty in ten minutes. 

I really thought Florabella would faint, and I wouldn’t have 
had her give way to her feelings for the world. But there was 
one of the shoemaker’s freckled daughters already perched on 
the music stool, banging away and singing “Tramp, tramp, 
tramp,” because Charity had asked if “Lucindy wouldn’t give 
the folks a tune,” and the shoemaker’s wife, with her feet on 
the register, informing the guests generally that it was so damp 
out that she really had muddled her stockings ; while the man 
himself, with the head of a cane half way down his throat, was 
staring Florabella out of countenance. 

I whispered to Mrs. Perkins, “Please, dear, for goodness^ 
sake, let us have supper. Maybe when they’re gone they’ll go 
like anacondas,” which Mr. Perkins had the cruelty to joke 
about at the awful moment, and to tell me, “Just the reverse 
— anacondas cant go when they’re gorged. ” 

But we did go down to supper, and when some of the young 
gentlemen — who made a regular joke of the matter, I could 
see — asked “ Miss 'Lucindy ” if she would have some oysters, 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


3S 

she screamed, Guess I Im allers around when there’s 

anything to eat — and I’m death on oysters ! 

Oh, it was awful ! All the children were perched up at the 
table, and fought for the jellies. One hit the other with a 
spoon, and the other threw a knife at him. The great boy 
reached across and helped himself and his mother, and the shoe- 
maker ate as though he was determined to get the amount of 
his bill out of the poor departed grandpa somehow ; until at 
last the whole table was doing nothing but stare at them. 

Poor Mr. Jazey behaved uncommonly well, and was doing 
the polite to one they called ''Araminty,” when that horrible 
fifteen-year-old caught sight of him. The instant he did, he 
tucked up his sleeves, turned down his collar, and whistled, 
“Whey! Wall, I never did ! Look a-here, dad.” 

“ Dad” looked up. 

“ Thafs a moke,” he said, pointing to Mr. Jazey. 

^^KwhatP’* whispered Miss Highflier. ''Dear me, what 
does the boy mean.? Does he want anything to drink or to eat.? 
I don’t about much know such people. But I’m sorry for you, 
Mrs. Perkins. I’d do anything I could to stop him !” and the 
girl meant it 

But the boy was not to be stopped. 

''That’s a nig!” he said. "Look here, you, ain’t you the 
nigger barber that lives down our way .? — like your impudence 
to come here. Dad, are you goin’ to stand it, or will you pitch 
him out .?” 

The shoemaker stopped to scrape his plate clean with his 
knife, which he licked all over, and then stood up. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


39 


‘‘Minty, come over here,'" he said. “Gals, get your bon- 
nets — Mat, you come along. I ain't a man to hinder my neigh- 
bors from ' sociating with who they wish ; but this here I say, I 
ain't no advocate of mixin' up. Like with like, says I, and no 
Amalgamating. Cullud pussons ain't for me, and if I'd know'd 
they was axed, I wouldn't hev come. I don’t consider it no 
compliment from Mrs. Perkins to give us an invite along with 
such, though knowin' what I knows of Miss Grinder, I reckon 
her too much of a lady to be a party to it." 

And away he marched, driving the children, with their hands 
full of pastry, before him, and collaring the boy who was going 
round and round with his arms, and dancing before that unfor- 
tunate hair-dresser. 

Florabella was in a swoon on the sofa, and Cornelia was weep- 
ing in the extension-room, and people were getting their things 
and going off as if they enjoyed the fun amazingly, and all the 
servants were grinning, and my last remembrance of the even- 
ing was a kind of pandemonium full of laughing faces, and 
sneering voices, and tears, and broken glass, and bits of pastry, 
and oysters all over the cloth, and charlotte russe that had been 
fought for by the shoemaker's boys on the floor, and that big- 
gest boy sparring at the dark-complexioned hair-dresser, and 
the girl and their mother scolding together. 

The morning after I came down stairs determined to rid the 
house of Charity Grinder, and I did it. She went off in a huff, 
and when I locked the door after her I vowed she should never 
re-enter it. 


40 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


But what’s the use of that? It can’t undo the evening’s work. 
We’re the laughing stock of our set. Mrs. Billiwinkle has quite 
cut us, and Horace Billiwinkle has ceased to pay the least atten- 
tion to Florabella Alice. Poor dear girl ! It would have been 
such a good thing for her ! 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


41 


NUMBER FIVE. 

CHARITY HAS A RIDE. 

New York is an awful wicked place. I never expected to see 
such carrying on, nor to be treated as I hev been treated since I 
came here. You can't go into the street without suthin terrible 
happening to ye. I wouldn’t advise no unprotected female lady 
for to come here on no account. 

Last Wednesday’s a week, I thought, seein’ I was here, Ed go 
to Barnum’s Museum, and, to tell the truth, Sary wasn't friends 
with me on account of my giving an invitation to a person that 
kept a barber-shop, and turned out to be colored. How on 
arth was I to know if he would be so light I’m sartin sure 
that a gentleman that comes to see her Florabella is ever so 
much darker, and they call him a Cuban, and sot all creation 
by him. I made matters worse than they was before by tellin’ 
Sary so, and, land alive, you’d a thought they wanted to eat me 
without salt. They can’t make me mad, though. I’m goin’ to 
hev my visit out. There ain’t no more eligible place to go. 
The livin’ is the best, and the spare bedroom is fitted up splen- 
did, and there’s lots of company. Ef they don’t ’predate me, 
tain’t my fault ; there’s other folks that does ; and ef I stay long 


42 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


enough I may make my market yet. Who’s to know my age 
unless I tell ’em ? And I’d like to step off, ef ’twas only to spite 
Mrs. Peter Cuen, the widdy up our way that I had the squabble 
with at the last fancy fair, when she had the impudence to say 
nuthin’ more was to be expected of old maids. 

But, lawful suz — where am 1 ? I sot out to tell about my ad- 
venture, and here I be, talking about Mrs. Peter Cuen. I 
wasn’t thinking of her when I sot out for Barnum’s. 

I asked Sary how I should get there, and she said : ‘‘Take a 
Broadway stage ; and as I knowed where Broadway was, I didn’t 
ask no more questions, but left her to her sulks and marched off. 

Sure as I live I thought I went the right way, but it appears I 
didn’t, for after I’d hailed a stage and got in, and rid upward of 
an hour, I says to a gentleman opposite me : 

“Be so kind, sir, as to tell me when we’re to Barnum’s.” 

He had a little eye-glass dangling from his neck, that he hadn’t 
used before, but he took and stuck it on his nose, when I spoke, 
and give me a good stare, and dusted his lilac gloves together, 
and twirled his mustache, and says he ; 

“Aw-aw. Weally !” 

Kinder made me mad, you know. 

“Here,” says I, “if you’re deaf, say so. I asked you to tell 
me when we come to Barnum’s, and I reckon if you’re too 
dumb to know, there’s smarter folks than you be in this convey- 
ance. ” 

All the goose said, was, “Bawnum^s? weally, eh!” 

Says I, “You in the corner — ^young man with the red haif 
and a wart on your nose — where is Barnum’s Museum ?” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


43 


And he answered up real smart — though I don't see what 
there was for the whole conglomeration of 'em to laugh at : 

"‘You're entirely out of your way, ma'am." 

" " Gracious, " says I, “I hope not. " 

“We're at South ferry," says he, “but I'll direct you," and 
then he handed me out as polite as possible. It wasn't his fault 
that it was into a mud pile as big as a haystack, but the driver's. 
Drivers are the most aggravatin' class in York, I swan to man. 

Well, this young man with the wart on his nose and the red 
head, stood full five minutes tellin' me to turn to the right, and 
go up this street, and turn to the left, and cross thingummy 
street, and pass what's-his-name Hall. But I knew about as 
much at the eend as I did at the beginning, and my head was 
spinning round like a teetotum. I was glad to have him leave 
olf directions so't I could think which way I was to go, and off 
I went in a hurry — the wrong way, it seems, for fust I come to 
a market, and then to wharves, and everywhere they kept direct- 
ing me to Broadway, and it only seemed to send me further 
away. I was jist beat out and mad, I was, as hop. Every liv- 
in' thing I had on was splattered with mud, and I lost my over- 
shoes twice in the gutters. 

At last I came to a baker's store, and there they told me I'd 
strayed to t'other eend o' creation. 

“I'm allers sorry for a lady that has lost herself in New York," 
says the lady in the shop, “and our wagon is jist drivin' over to 
Broadway, so it you like to get in, the man will take you." 

Of course I was willing, so dumb in with many thanks, 


44 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


though mebbe ef I hadn't remembered my manners Fd have 
got along better ; for while I was wavin' my hand and invitin' 
her to call on me to Sary's, off I slipped, as flat as a pancake, in 
the mud. Ef York mud wasn't like a feather bed I'd have been 
killed ; but, lawful suz, as it was, I was as ef I'd been plastered, 
and they got a broom and swept me off before they'd let me get 
in the wagon agin. 

When I did get in I was most jolted to death, and the flour 
stuck to me where I had been dipped in the mud. So't I made 
up my mind to go straight hum and wait till Sary got over her 
sulks and could go along with me to Barnum's. 

When I got to Broadway I knowed I could find Sary's, for all 
the stages run past her corner. But it so happened the baker 
didn't go clear to Broadway, and when he sot me down, he says: 

‘^Just go straight ahead and you'll come to it all safe, and get 
into the fust stage you see." 

So ahead I went, and soon came to a street with the names all 
askew on the lamp-posts, and fixed so mortal eyes couldn't read 
'em, for all the world as if it was suthin in the pockets of them 
as fixed 'em to bewilder strangers. Seemed to me it looked like 
Broadway, though, so I turned into it. 

'Twas horrid dirty, and every house that wasn't a rum shop 
was a pawnbroker's, and most of the population was a heap 
darker complected than my poor barber, and the heft of 'em 
tipsy. 

I hadn't gone far before I came to the conclusion 'twasn't 
Broadway after all, and I cut down a cross street, and went on 
walkin' until, lo and behold, I saw a stage standin' before a big 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


45 


house with lamps at the door, and jest stood still and clasped 
my hands, I was so thankful. There was a lot of boys about 
the door waitin' for suthin, and I asked one : 

‘‘What house is this, sonny?" 

Says he, “Station-house, missus." 

Of course I calkerlated it was the stage station. Can't be 
wrong, thinks I, and in I jumped and sot down in the corner. 
It was an awful black old stage, with windows like blind shut- 
ters, and smelt awful of tobacco. But York is such a dirty, bad- 
smellin' place, I couldn't feel surprised at a little extra disgust- 
ableness, and the fact of the matter was that Sary havin' told me 
all the Broadway stages passed their corner, I felt safe on my 
way hum. Perhaps — though it's what I never did before — I 
may have dozed a bit, while I was waiting for the other passen- 
gers. I waked up when they got in — two ladies and three gen- 
tlemen — and I couldn't help noticin' how rude the policeman 
that handed 'em in acted — wuss, if that can be, than them that 
acts as beaux over Broadway, though they way they push and 
drag is a caution, and I couldn't help thinking that New York- 
ers was the most disreputable-lookin' set of critters above ground. 

One gentleman was rigged up amazin' fine, to be sure, but 
he had a black eye and a bruise on his cheek, and t'other gen- 
tleman looked as ef somebody had been trying to pull what 
clothes he had off him, and the last one actually was the wuss 
for liquor. As for the ladies, one hadn't combed her hair for a 
week, I’m sure, and t'other was cryin' fit to kill herself. 

Says I, “What's the matter with you, young gal? Anythin' 


46 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


happened to ye ? Got hurt, anyhow?'' And she looked 'round, 
and says she : 

‘ ‘ I wish there had — I wish I was dead. " 

“Law," says I, “that's wicked. We'd orter submit to cir- 
cumstances. " And then the lady that hadn't combed her hair 
for a length o' time sot on to laugh. 

“Ha, ha!" says she. “Nuthin ails her only she's goin' up 
the first time. I bellowed when I had my first year, but I don't 
care tenpence now. What 2 irQyou up for?" 

“Me!" says I — though I couldn't make any sense out of 
what she said. “Me? Well, I meant to goto Barnum's, but 
I begin to feel beat out, so I'm goin' to Sary's, where I'm stop- 
pin'. Please tell me when we get to the corner o' Twenth-fifth 
street, for that's my place. " 

She stared at me like a crazy woman, and then bust out a 
laughin'. 

“Thought you didn't look altogether right," says she. 
“Where did you come from?'' 

“Jest a few miles from Peekskill," says I. 

“Where do you suppose you're goin' now?" says she, laugh- 
ing. 

“Well," says I, “ef this is a Broadway stage, I kalkerlateto 
go to Twenty 'fifth street." 

I was getting skeered— the passengers stared so at me. 

“Who put you in here?" says the woman, after a minute. 

“Wal, I saw the stage waitin', and didn't stop to be put— I 
got in," says 1. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


47 


Then, I regret to say it, but it can't be helped, that woman 
used an immoral expression. In fact, she swore, and says she : 

“The old gal hain't a notion where she is, I'll bet tenpence.” 

“Meanin' me, ma'am," says I. 

‘ ^ Of course, " says she. 

“If them's York manners, give me Hottentots," says L 
“ They know better than to call strange ladies old gals. I'll get 
out and walk the rest, sooner than ride along with such com- 
pany. Pull the check," says I, “some o' you men," and I 
tried the door, but it was shut tight. “Let me out, driver," I 
hollered, and somebody on the ruff called back : 

“Hold your noise in there." 

“I'll write to the Herald,’' says I, “and to the Tribune, and 
to the rest of the papers. Can't you stop when I say so? I'll 
pay your fare as soon as I see you, " and I banged the door with 
my umbrella. 

The man in the ragged clothes spoke up then, and says he : 

“'Tain't no use, old lady. If you hev got in by mistake, 
you've got to stay. They're used to noises and poundings. 
They won't stop until they're ready. " 

“Land o' Goshen !" says I, “what du you mean — ain't this 
a Broadway stage?" 

“It's the Black Maria," says he. 

“Well," says I, “I'd name my stage arter white folks ef I 
run one. But that's all taste. Where does this here go ?" 

“jTo the Tombs," says he. “We're all going there," and 
he covered his miserable lookin' face in his hands. 

I jest sot and stared, and tried to think why they should take 


48 THE GRINDER PAPERS. 

livin^ folks to the tombs ; and a sudden it burst upon me that 
probably ’twas for the purpose of buryin ’em alive and stealin’ 
their clothes, and I sat up shriek arter shriek. 

‘^Police! Police!” says L ^^Help! Murder! Let me out!” 
and at it I went — pounding the door with my umbrella, and 
stamping on the floor with my boots until the door opened, and 
there wc were, before a great sepelchur with sloping walls big 
enough to bury a million. 

There was a policeman at the door, and he pulled the others 
out one after the other, and at last he came to me ; but I held 
on and hollered. 

‘^Come, now,” says he, we don’t want to use you rough. 
Just keep quiet.” 

‘T won’t be buried alive ! I won’t ! I won’t !” says I. 

‘^You ought to have thought of that before. Come out,” 
says he, and if he didn’t lug me out, and into a great place 
where the rest o’ the passengers were, another policeman count- 
in’ ’em. 

‘‘Six,” says he. “Why, there’s one too many. Here, old 
woman, how did you come here?” 

“They dragged me,” says I. “ I’ll make ’em pay for it. I’ve 
got a number of cousins here, and a brother up to Peekskill. 
They’ll punish you ” 

But all the while I was trembling like a leaf with fright. 

“Well,” says the man, “here a go. Who put you into 
the Black Maria ?” 

“If you mean the stage,” says I, “seein’ ’twas waitin’, I got 
in to go up Broadway. ” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


49 


*'Were you aware 'twas a prison wagon/' says he. 

Hey?” says 1. '‘Is this a prison ?” 

"Its the Tombs,” says he. 

All of a sudden I remembered the name. 

"Them's people that have been took up?” says I. 

"Yes,” says he. 

"And anybody seein' me get out thought / was took up too ?” 
says I. 

"Certainly,” says he. "You have yourself to thank for it.” 

And I swan to man the wretch called me a confounded old 
fool, sure as my name is Charity Grinder. 

"She ain't fit to go at large,” says he, and he walked me out 
to the street and give me over to another policeman, and he put 
me into the right stage at last So I got home to Sary's. The 
Cuban gentleman they have picked out for Florabella was there 
to dine, and I told him all about it He said 'twas outrageous, 
and Sar}rsaid before I'd done getting into scrapes. I’d mortify 
her to death. She orter hev more sympathy with me, but this 
time she has reason to be mad, and' the minute I've done this 
I'll set down and write to the papers that "Whoever saw a re- 
spectable lady get out of the 'Black Maria' stage at the Tombs 
prison, are hereby informed she got in by mistake, and for fur- 
ther perticklers call on Miss Charity Grinder, at her Cousin 
Saiy's, No. — 25th street” 

After that there can't be no misunderstanding, and Sary will 
feel more comfortable. 


i 


50 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER SIX. 

CHARITY DINES AT THE KITTIKINS'. 

Keep me from intellectable folks all the days o' my life! I've 
had enough of 'em to last. Ketch me to Cousin Kittikins' agin. . 
He ain't exackly a cousins, but, you see, his mother's aunt kept 
company with our Uncle Bobkins quite a spell, when she was a 
gal ; and they'd hev been married, only he jilted her, and she 
sued him for breach o' promise of marriage, and took the money 
he was compelled to pay for breakin' her heart, to furnish with 
when she married Mr. Shad. So, you see, we're sort o' con- 
nected. 

Cousin Kittikins was allers considered a smart boy when he 
lived up our way. Took to writin’, and had a lot o' stuff re- 
gardin' the moon, published in the Saturday Evenin' Shower- 
bath, and went away to York to seek his fortune when he was 
goin' on nineteen. 

We heerd from him now and then, and when he married he 
sent us a bit o' weddin' cake and a couple o' cards. 

His wife was mighty intellectable too, they said, and was in 
the habit o' lecturin'. 

Well, since that party at Sary's, things has been *^npleasant 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


51 


there, and I thought I’d go away a spell, so's they'd miss me ; 
and knowin' where Cousin Kittikins resided, I up and went 
there, with a change o’ thiidgs in a portmantle, and my knittin’ 
work in my pocket. 

I came to the door about eleven o’clock, and there it was 
streamin’ wide open. Couple o’ children eatin’ candy in the 
hall, and a gal messin’ with a broom in the area. Reckon she 
thought she was sweepin’. Them wild Irish has such slashin’ 
ideas o’ work. 

“Miss Kittikins tu hum.?” says I. 

Says she, “Yes, but she’s engaged. ” 

“ I’m a relation,” says I. 

“Be you?” say^ she. 

And I didn’t answer another word, but marched in. 

There was an awful bellowin’ in the front parlors. Sounded 
as ef some one was fust gettin’ choked and then squeezed. So 
I run in, and, laws a massy ! there sat a lady in cloth pants and 
a short frock, and a bob-tailed coat. And she waves her hand 
and says she, 

“Are these the rights o’ woman ? Speak !” 

“Which,” says I — “the pants?” 

She clasped her hand to her forehead, and says she ; 

“Ha 1” and then, “Excuse me, I was absorbed in my forth- 
coming lecture. You have business with me?” 

So I told her who I was, and she shook hands and sent the 
gal to call Cousin Kittikins. The gal went, and come back 
grinnin’ 


52 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


'' Master's oversot the big ink dimmyjohn," says she. ‘'Soon 
as he’s sopped it up he’ll come. ” 

“Lawful suz!” says I, “probably it’s all over his shirt front 
and cuffs.” 

“Thank you for your interest, Miss Grinder,” says Miss Kit- 
tikins, says she, “but that is impossible. Obadiah’s shirt is 
dryin’ in the kitchen at this instant. ” 

“His shirt r says 1. “ Land alive ! hain’t he got but one?” 

She smiles, and she says : 

“ No, muslin does wear out so. ” 

“Why don’t you sot to and make him a few?” says 1. 

Says she, “With my engagements? Why, Miss Grinder, I 
lecture before the Hindoo Approximation Consolidated Female 
Society at one o’clock, and say a few words at a meeting of the 
Freedwoman’s Humbug Association at three ; am chairwoman 
of the Ladies’ Association for Teaching the Jewsharp to the 
Hindoos, at six ; and come out in my grand speech, in which 
I prove that a girl of sixteen is invariably the intellectual su- 
perior of a man of sixty, at a quarter to eight. Shirts ! What 
time have I for shirts ? Besides, Obadiah can always have one 
of my short gowns on a pinch.” 

“Lawful suz!” says 1. 

Just then in come Obadiah. 

“Excuse me,” says he, “for keepin’ you so long, but after 
I’d concluded to let the ink soak in, the devil called and de- 
tained me ” 


“The — who /’ — says 1. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


53 


‘ ' The printer's boy, vulgarly called the ^ devil, ' says he. 

Happy to hear it,'’ says L “Thought you meant the old 
boy. Well, how do you get along Writin' yet 

“Just published a new book," says he; “a triumphant liter- 
ar}' success — 'The Hobgoblin of Holyoak ; or. The Murder of 
Miranda, the Victim of Kasparagoobleboo. " 

“Du tell," says L “Who killed her.?" 

“Her demon lover," says he. ‘'In the first chapter there 
are two murders, nine specters, one natural death, and a sui- 
cides, beside which Kasparagoobleboo hatches his muderous 
plot. " 

“Lor !" says I. 

“In the second chapter, Miranda escapes her demon lover by 
springing from the castle-keep into the moat at the dead hour 
o' midnight," says he. “The scene is laid in New Jersey, and 
the hull o' the characters are dead before the second part. It's 
a thrilling thing. Miss Grinder. I'll give you a copy. " 

“Thank ye," says I. “Law, how hungry I do feel after my 
walk 1" 

“That reminds me," said Miss Kittikins, “dinner ought to 
be ready. Biddy, why haven't you rung the bell .?" 

‘ ' I sent master Dick up to tell, " says Biddy, who was doin' 
suthin in the hall. 

“Law!" says Miss Kittikins, “what a boy that is! Come 
down stairs, or we shan't get anything !" 

So down we went. Lord o' Goshen ! There sot the table all 
askew, and there was them infant Kittikins — all as dirty as rag- 
pickers. 


54 


THE GRIXDER PAPERS, 


One on ’em was a-top the table, diggin' pieces out of a leg o’ 
mutton, and t’other was eatin’ apple-sars with two tablespoons, 
one in his mouth and one in the dish the hull time, so’s to get 
the more. Another young man was peggin’ potatoes at his lit- 
tle sister, and the baby had put the pepper-caster into the sugar- 
bowl, and was just emptying in the mustard. Land o’ Goshen ! 
I sot down and started. 

‘^Naughty little souls!” says Miss Kittikins. ‘‘But we were 
like them once. Sit down and help yourself, Miss Grinder. ” 

“Well, mum,” says I, “as to helpin’ or bein’ helped, I 
dunno. I hain’t eat my peck o’ dirt yet, and I shan’t begin 
now. ” 

“Oh,” says she, not a bit put out. “Well, people that have 
never had children are always particular. Biddy, is there any- 
thing they haven’t handled 

‘ ‘ Some bologny, ” says Biddy. 

“Well, fetch me that,” says I, “and a bit cut out o’ the 
middle of a loaf, for I’m about starved. ‘ ‘ What’s the matter. 
Miss Kittikins E 

Says she, “The teapot spout is stopped up with something. 
It won’t pour out. ” 

Biddy took a spoon and dived into the pot, and says she : 

“ Whoo I St. Peter over us ! this is a fine place for the baby’s 
illigent new blue stocking that we lost from the wash 1 Masther 
John put it in, or my name’s not Biddy I” 

“No tea for me, Miss Kittikins!” says I. 
old boy’s in the house I” 


‘ ‘ Seems to me the 


THE GRLXDER PAPERS. 


55 


^‘Little contretemps will occur/' says she. 

‘^I’d baste contrary Toms with horsewhips then," says I, for I 
was mad to be cheated out of my tea. 

‘"Biddy," says she, ""make a little new tea for Miss Grinder." 

Away went Biddy, and in she comes, sooner than I expected, 
with a teapot. 

""Thare's a clane cup for ye," says she, but when I tasted it — 
excuse me for writin' such vulgar words, but it tasted o' bed- 
bugs. 

Says I, ""This ain't tea. 

Says Miss Kittikins, ""Where did you get it, Biddy?" 

Says Biddy, ""There was a paper of it on the top shelf. The 
other was out. " 

""A blue paper?" says Miss Kittikins. 

""Yes, mum," says Biddy. 

""Law!" says she. ""That's the old stuffin out o my mat- 
tress. I wrapped it up to show the upholsterer what I wanted 
my new one filled with. Who put it on the shelf, I don't 
know, but I knowed it by its singular smell when it was found 
out." 

I never felt so sick before since the hour I was borii. 

Well, that finished my meal, and I up and left the table. 

Before I'd got out o' the room Cousin Kittikins follered, and 
we was all together up stairs agin. I du believe even Miss Kit- 
tikins felt kinder squalmish. 

She says, as she comes into the parlor : 

""Why don't you ever wear the Bloomer costume. Miss Grin- 
der ?" says she. 


56 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Says I, '^'Cause I don't fancy cloth pants and docked petti- 
cuts would be becomin’/' 

“Oh/’ says she, “Tisn’t for that one should wear them/" 

“ ’Tain’t,"" says 1. “What for, then, mum?’" 

“Oh/" says she, “to set an example to the rest of our sex."' 

“"Twould take more than that to make me figger round the 
cloth pants,"" says 1. 

She kinder groaned, and then, says she : 

' ^ One o’clock. I must be off. Biddy, where is my bon- 
net?"" 

“I hain"t seen it,"" says Biddy 

“You viust says she. “I hung it on a peg in the kitchen 
when I came in yesterday. "" 

Then one o’ the young uns bawled : 

“Ma, Sam had it on."" 

“Where is it, Sam?"" says she. 

“Up chimbly,” says he. 

“Go get it,"" says she; and out he went and pitched in suth^ 
in’ all soot and ashes. 

“Shocking,"" says she. “Biddy, brush it off, and bring my 
shawl. "" 

“The shawl is on Miss Kitty’s bed for a blanket,” says Biddy. 
“I can’t make beds twice a day."" 

“ Impertinent menial,"" says Miss Kittikins. “Obey me or 
tremble !"" 

And Biddy went arter the shawl 

Naturally "twas mussed, and besides there was a scorch in the 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


57 


middle that showed it had been used for an ironing blanket — 
just the stamp of a flat iron. 

]\Iiss Kittikins put it on, and the bonnet too, and says she : 

‘ ‘ Miss Grinder, Tm obliged to leave you, but I hope I shall 
find you here when I come back. Help yourself to anything 
you like, and amuse yourself as you please. Au revoirT 

Away she marched, and away Fd er marched tu, only a thought 
struck me. What that thought was I can’t tell you until next 
chapter, on account of bein' dreadful overcome with sleep ; but 
you shall hear of it, then, or my name isn’t Charity Grinder. 


5S 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER SEVEN. 

HOW CHARITY CLEARED UP A HOUSE. 

The idea that struck me, that I told you Ed mention in this 
chapter, was that Ed as well as not stay where I was and clear up 
a little. I always was a master-hand to clean, and I kinder itched 
for to get a hold of a broom and scrub-brush. Here wus a 
chance, and I made up my mind how't the minute they'd gone 
— for he wus a goin' arter her with a load o' papers and a num- 
berill — Ed drive that lazy Bridget round and set things straight 
for Cousin Kittikins. 

Poor fellow, I did pity him. Men ain't to be blamed for sich 
things as happened since I arrived tu the house. It was all her 
fault for bein' so intellectable. 

So I remained, and the minute I beared the door bang, down 
stairs I went. I found Biddy with her feet on the kitchen 
hearth, eatin' peanuts, and every livin' thing stuck up with dirt. 

Here," says I, dye know what time it is?" 

Says she, ‘‘M'um, our clock is stopped." 

‘ ^ Should think it must be, " says I, ‘ ‘ and you along with it. 
Come now, no foolin', fetch your broom and dust-pan, and an 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


59 


extra one fur me, and mizzle up stairs. Miss Kittikins has left 
me to keep house, and Tm a goin' tu keep it. It's been spook- 
in' along of itself so far, I should say. Where’s the young 
uns V’ 

''Out in the street, I reckon,” she says. 

"Well,” sez I, "fetch ’em, no foolin’. I will hev my orders 
attended to.” 

And in a minute in came the hull bilin’ driv like a passel o’ 
pigs, and black with dirt. 

"There,” sez I, "stop proceedins. Lift off the biler and 
give me soap and sody, and a crash towel ; I’m goin’ tu wash 
these ere up fust.” 

And so I did. Soused every one, rubbed ’em till they shone 

y 

wrapped ’em up in counterpanes, and sot ’em in a row on the 
wash-bench, with each a spellin’-book, and orders to study. 

And don’t you budge,” sez I. "When the house is clean 
you shall have some clean clothes, and study catechise for a 
change. ” 

They all yelled, but I didn’t care for that, and up stairs I 
went. 

"Top o’ the house fust,” sez I. "Which is the nastiest 
room ?” 

"Missuses,” sez she, and in we went. 

Massy ! what a hole. On the mantel-piece was four bottles of 
ink, and one upset ; a dozen dirty pens, a bowl of victuals of 
some kind, a fork, her t’other bonnit, a lamp all ile outside, a 
book open on its face, and a dirty towel. 


6o 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


On the floor wus his boots and her slippers, the young uns 
dirty aprons and a pair o’ tongs, a dead kitten, and a lot d 
ashes out o’ the grate, couple o’ palm leaf fans, and a flat-iron. 

Under the bed wus the heft o’ the family’s siled clothes in a 
market-basket, and a plate o’ apples. On the bed wus a cloak 
and an old gown to keep them warm, an’ one o’ the quilts wus 
strung up in the windy to play curtain. 

Last night’s gas wus burnin’ yet, and the wash hand-basin and 
drain in the corner wus overflowin’ an’ dribblin’ onto the floor. 

Besides that somebody had evidently been bathin’ in the fish 
biler, a real elegant one, with a copper bottom. The things at 
Cousin Kittikins seemed all good if they’d known how to use 
’em. 

What’s this here room.?^” sez I, p’intin’ to the next. 

'‘It’s the study,” sez she. "Missus don’t hev that swept 
ever. ” 

"She will this time,” sez I, so in I goes, and choked straight 
off with the clouds of dust that was riz by walkin’ in it. 

There was more books with kivers off, and more dirty writin’ 
paper, than ever I see afore. 

"Begin with the wust,” sez I. "The hull books we’ll keep, 
and the ragged we’ll burn. Clear off the shelf Here’s a mess 
o’ scribblin’ ; light that fust in the grate. Don’t throw in no 
clean paper. I ain’t goin’ to countenance waste. ” 

And we went on pitchin’ in scribbled paper for ten minutes. 
Then I begun with the old books. 

"‘Bible,’” sez 1. "Put that safe on the shelf, if it is all 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


6i 


over lasses. ‘Hymn-Book.’ Stick that up too. ‘Bacon.’ 
Reckon that’s a cook-book. Take keer o’ that. ‘ Shakespeare. ’ 
A nasty, wicked play-book. Pitch it on the fire. ‘Pope.’ 
Mebbe you re a Catholic, Biddy, but /ain’t; so burn anything 
relatin’ to the Pope. ‘Volney’s Ruins.’ That’s history, or 
geography; keep it for the children. These here is verses. 
Burn ’em. Lot o’ novels. Burn them. We’re beginnin’ to 
hev more room. Newspapers. Them that’s clean keep for 
dresser shelves. What’s this } ‘ Byron’s Poems. ’ They’d pison 
the air ; and the kiver is gone, too. Pitch that in. Nice clean 
book — ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ — put that on the shelf ‘New Tes- 
tament. ’ Dear me ! there’s a fine-tooth comb betwixt the 
leaves !” 

And so I went on, and when all the books but about a dozen 
was burnt, and the dirty scribbled paper, too, I had the floor 
scrubbed and the windy’s washed, and sot the clean paper on the 
desk, with the nicest inkstand aside of it, and darkened it up, 
and went on to her bedroom. 

Biddy grumbled the heft o’ the time, but she was afeard to go 
off, because her wages was due, and she thought she mighn’t 
get ’em in that case. 

’Twas half-past six when we’d got through, and then pork and 
beans was ready and the table sot, and all the children dressed 
clean, at their cipherin’, for there warn’t no catechises in the 
house. 

“They’ll feel thankful for once,” sez I. 

“Just see if they will,” sez the girl, with a grin, and at that 
minute in walks Miss Kittikins. 


62 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


She stared at the children, all sittin’ in a row as nice as wax, 
and says she : 

‘'Great Heavens !” 

‘ ‘ They air clean, " says I. 

She sinks into a chair, and says she, “Obadiah!"’ and in 
comes Kittikins. 

Says she, “Behold our wretched babes injuring their health, 
and ruining their constitutions and eyesights over books T 

He looks at me, and says he : 

“Air you aware, Miss Grinder, that we have come to the res- 
olution that study is injurious to infant minds? Develop the 
body,'' sez he, “and the brain will develop itself. Throw aside 
your volumes, children, and fly to the gymnasium !" 

‘ ‘ They can't do that, sir, " sez Biddy. “If ye plaze, it’s all 
burnt up." 

“The poles — the ropes — the dumb-bells — the Indian clubs!" 
says Kittikins. 

Sez I, “If you mean them nasty clothes lines, and dirty 
sticks and bats in the garret, they air burnt. Hadn't a idee they 
was Jim what's-his-names. I've cleared yer house for ye from 
top to bottom." 

Then them two Kittikins looked at each other and flowed out 
of the room, and back he came first, yaller with rage, and says 
he : 

‘ ‘ My manuscript, my manuscript, my manuscript ! Restore 
my manuscript?" 

“ Hain’t seen it. What was it?" says I. 


THi: GRIXDER PAPERS, 


63 


“Bugram, the Regum; or, the Ghastly Guest,'' says he. 
“Hob, the Happy Hunter of the Heath — Hunki Dori; or, the 
Doctor's Vengeance, and McHeath, of McHeath ; or, the 
Bloody Doom. Where air they ?" 

Says I, “Was they books ?" 

Says he, “Unprinted books — paper written on, and sticked 
together. " 

“Law," sez I, “I'm afeared theyVe gone. You'd orter a 
left word about ’em." 

Just then in flies Miss Kittikins. 

“Husband," says she, “Yon fiend incarnate has destroyed 
my speech on the Supremacy of Woman, and my lecture on 
the Haunts of a Barn-Yard Hen. And the library is gone. 
Only twelve books left. " 

Says he, “Wretched Female!" 

Says I, “What are you. I'd like to know.?" 

Says he, “Listen. Have you burnt Dunderhead's proof that 
an intellectual man njever believes in anything ?" 

Says Miss Kittikins, “She hasE 

Says he, “I cannot forgive that. No, I cannot forgive that. 
We will say adieu forever, Miss Grinder." 

“Not before I've had my dinner," says I. 

And I went to work at the pork and beans with a will. 

“I've heerd tell of folks so dirty they didn't know themselves 
when they was clean, and you belong to 'em. You'd orter go 
onto yer bended knees and thank me 'stead o' talkin’ so. " 


64 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Says Kittikins, ‘‘ YouVe destroyed the fruits of a year’s study 
and labor/’ 

''Dye mean the apples that was under the bed?” sez I, 
"They’ve been washed and are in the pantiy/’ 

Says he, "I speak of the products of my pen.” 

"Lor’,” sez I, "you’ve got lots o’ clean paper and room to 
write in. What I burnt was too dirty to be used. I’ve done 
my duty by you, ” sez I, ' ' and I hope this ingratitude will be 
forgiven,” sez I; "anyhow, I pity and despise you too much to 
get mad.” 

So, havin’ done dinner, I on with my things and drops ’em a 
courtesy and walks out, and I don’t walk in to the Kittikins 
again in a hurry. 



THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


65 


NUMBER EIGHT. 

WHY CHARITY REMAINED MISS GRINDER. 

Didn't never hear nuthin' o' my precious history, did ye? 
Law, no, I reckon not — though I hev been in print, too. Mrs. 
Cluppins, that come down tu our place to write a cook-book, 
got my recipe for a plum puddin', and named it arter me— 
Charity plum puddin' ; and once I contribbited a five-dollar bill 
to the association for providin' the Humbug Islanders with pin- 
cushions, and was alluded to as Miss C. G., of P , $5. 

However, about my love aifairs. I've acted nobly, and never 
told no reporters nothin' whats'ever about 'em, on account o' 
the feelin's o' them that might read 'em. I hev been called the 
Glory of Peekskill in my young days, though t'aint for me to 
mention it ; and I ain't so orful old now, for the matter o' that. 

I could give a list o' risin' young men that offered themselves 
to me in my airly youth, and two widdiwers, with immense for- 
tunes ; but I turned up my nose at all on 'em — even one that 
followed me fifteen years, and committed suicide by plungin' into 
dissipation, after he'd come to the detarmination that nothin' 
could induce me to alter my detarmination. Poor dear! he 
only died four years ago. His'n was such a slow method. His 


66 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


affection was entirely disinterested, and his heart entirely mine. 
He warn't but six years junior to me, and his fust offer was 
made about a week arter Grand’ther Billins' death. Poor old 
man ! he left his property 'twixt brother Jonathan and me, when 
he stated that some folks had mixed motives for devotin' them- 
selves to their enameraters, but that his'n was pure as mornin' 
dew. Beautiful, warn't it.? I've got his letters to hum, in a 
bushel basket, kivered with an old linen pillarcase. Allers was 
keerful of my things, from a child. 

Said, in one on 'em, nuthin' would please him better than for 
tu hev the privilidge o' strewin' my path with flowers. Warn't 
it beautiful ? Used the most illegant langwidge, and no bad 
grammar. I don't abomilate nuthin' as I do the use o' bad 
grammar. Graddyated myself at Miss Squizzle's Seminary; 
worked a piece in cross stick, and got a prize for a composition, 
writ in verse. To tell the truth, Sally Spiggot writ it for me — 
but then I did her sums. 

This is how it begun ; 

“Achilles’ wrath, to Greece the direful spring 
Of woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess, sing ! 

That wrath which hurled to Pluto’s gloomy reign 
The souls of mighty chiefs, untimely slain.” 

There was more on’t, and the examiners praised it to the 
skies, and says one on 'em, ^‘Considerin' her age, it's mighty 
smart. " 

'Nuther on 'em scratches his head, and says he, “Seems to 
me 'tain't purely original. Is it all your'n, little miss ?" and I 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 67 

says, as bold as brass, for I warn't goin/ to tell how*t 

Sally Spiggot writ it for me. 

Lor', yes-^I always was well thought of, an' kep' the fust so- 
ciety wherever I went — none o' your low, uneddicated folks — -I 
despise 'em. 

That was an examination. You don't see none such nowhere 
now. We all parsed grammar, and ciphered sums, and did 
hist'ry, and some on 'em recited pieces they'd selected. 

The parents was to teach 'em, and poor little Jemmimy 
Sprouts, she hadn't no mar, and she went and stood up when 
called on, and begun to repeat this here ; 

“To the dark and silent tomb 
Soon I hastened from the ** 

There she was choked by Miss Squizzle, and carried into a class- 
room and feruled on both hands. Though how was a mother- 
less child to know how't an epitaph on a new-born infant warn't 
the thing to speak. 

But this here ain't my topic. I wanted to tell ye how I didn'^t 
happen for to marry. 

You see I never took no notion to none o' my numerous ad- 
mirers, only Mozart Jenks ; and though I knowed he was infa- 
tooated with my charms, seemed as if he wouldn't never come 
to the pint ; knowed he adored me, but he was too bashful to 
say so. We went round a heap together, and he sot up with 
me a number o' times in the parlor till twelve o'clock ; but then, 
even, he didn't never speak six words. Most you'd get out of 


68 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


him was, '‘Reckon we’ll hev a spell o’ weather,” or the like o 
that. 

Well, this hed been a-goin’ on a year, when I made up my 
mind to bring him to the pint, for fear he’d spile some other 
match for me, and never speak himself arter all. Concluded to 
do it in the evenin’ we was invited to spend to Miss Knockter- 
nal’s. 

’Twarn’t a reg’lar party. Sort o* a sociable affair, ye know — 
the gals and married women folks went tu tea, and the gentle- 
men they came arter. I went purvided with a couple o’ mottoes 
— two red sugar hearts tied together with blue ribbon, and these 
here verses : 

“ If you love me as I love you, 

No knife can cut our hearts in two.** 

Well, them was in my pocket, done up in silver paper, and 
I’d made up my mind jest what tu du before I went over. 

Miss Knockternal was mighty glad to see me — all my friends 
allers hev adored me — and we sot down to hev a chat, along 
with some o’ the other ladies, and I happened to be knittin’. 

‘‘Law,” says she, “Charity Grinder, I du swan tu man ef 
you hain’t a master hand tu knit ! Law !” says she, “I wish I 
could do as well. I kin knit stockin’s, but not mittens, and 
here’s a lot o’ white and scarlet wool would make Amelia So- 
phronia a nice pair. ” 

Says I, “ Hand it over. Miss Knocternal ; I’ll knit ’em in no 
time — they ain’t a circumstance.” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


69 


^ Thank ye/’ says she, 'Til jest wrap up one of her old un 
for you to know the size. ” 

So up she wrapped it, and I stuck it in my pocket, and na- 
turally didn’t think of it agin. 

Well, we had tea. Miss Knockternal had four kinds o’ cake 
and three kinds o' sweetmeats — sugar was high that year, but 
law, Miss Knockternal wus allers one to hev 'em. Arter tea we 
went up stairs. Then the gentlemen came, and apples, and 
nuts, and cider, and more cake, were handed round ; and Mr. 
Mozart Jenks he came, sot alongside o' me, and devoted himself 
to me the heft of the evenin'. 

When it came time to go, sez he : 

"Miss Grinder, may I have the pleasure o' escortin you hum.?^" 

Sez I, "Yes, Mr. Jenks.” 

So we started together. For half a mile he moved along, 
suckin’ his cane head, and not sayin' nuthin’. Kinder made me 
mad to see him so spoony, and sez I, I’ll fetch him — I’ll hev 
the proposition out of him tu-night, or I ain’t Chat Grinder. 
So I heft a great sigh. 

" What ails ye.?” says he. 

"Nuthin’,” sez I, and I puts my handkercber to my eyes. 

"Oh,” sez he, "du tell me.” 

Sez I, "I’m thinkin’ what a desert this here world is without 
a companion what congeliates with a body's soul. ” 

Sez he, ' ' Sing’lar. I wus thinkin' nigh about the same. ” 

"Howcurus,” says I. 

"Ain’t it?” says he. 


70 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Sez I, ‘"Didn't know you of the male sect ever sighthed fo^ 
congeniality in the opposite one. " 

“Why/’ sez he, “we all do that’s worth anything. Lovely 
woman is needful tu our happiness. ” 

Then I thought ’twas cornin’. But law, he only sucked his 
cane head agin. 

Sez I, arter a pause, ‘ ‘Wonder you never thought of mariyin’, 
with them sentiments.” 

Says he, “I hev.” 

“Why hain’t you?” says I. 

Says he, “I warn’t sure she’d hev me, and I thought I’d feel 
flat if she didn’t.” 

“ Mebbe her sentiments is reciprocal,” sez L 

“Mebbe they be,” sez he, “but I can’t find out.” 

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” says I. 

He jest sucked his cane. I could ha’ punched him. 

We walked on a spell, and cum in sight o’ our house. ’Twas 
a summer night, and our folks was sittin’ onto the porch. I 
knowed there’d be no chance soon. Says I : 

“I don’t believe, Mr. Jenks, you care to know her senti- 
ments. ” 

“Fd give a big punkin to know ’em,” says he. 

I put my hand in my pocket in a hurry. 

Sez I, “Take this hum, Mozart Jenks, and p’raps ’twill re- 
veal her sentiments.” 

So I stuck (as I supposed) the two hearts into his hand, and 
run in and left him. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


11 


Twas done, and I reckoned he’d be down next mornin ' but 
he warn’t. Nuther wus he there next day, nor Sunday. I’d 
been plain enough, Lud knows, even for Mozart Jenks, and I 
was perplexed. 

When Monday came I was in dretful tribbilation, and was 
settin’ by the windy when ma cum in, and says she : 

‘‘Chat, Miss Knockternal has been a speakin' o' some mitts 
you’re knittin- fur her. I hain’t seen ’em.” 

“They hain’t commenced,” sez I. 

Well, goodness knows. I’d as lief knit as not, and I stuck my 
hand in my pocket, and out I fetches the odd mit fur a pattern. 
It felt kinder hard, and I undone it in a hurry. 

Land alive I ’Twarn’t the mit, ’twas the two hearts united by 
blue ribbon and the motto. I’d gin him the mitten by mistake, 
and if ever a girl felt distracted I did. 

Few days arter I got a note. It run this way : 

“Miss Grinder: You needn’t have took the trouble to give 
me the mitten before I asked you The lady I alluded to was 
Miss Grampkins, and her sentiments is reciprocal. I don’t 
send the mitten back because ’taint likely you’ll ever have occa- 
sion for it, and subscribe myself, 

“Yours, respectfully, Mozart Jenks. 

“P. S. — I’m to be married Thursday. M. J.” 

Of course I knowed ’twas all out of spite. He hadn’t had 
no thought before of Miss Grampkins. But the milk was spilt, 
and that’s the last of it. 

So as I hain’t seen Mozart’s equal since, I remain in singular 
blessedness to this day, and don't suppose Mozart knows how’t I 
only gave him the mitten by mistake. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


2 


NUMBER NINE. 

CHARITY GRINDER ATTENDS A MATINEE. 

If there is an angel in man's guise on earth, I do think it is 
dear Horace Billiwinkle. Out of a hair-dresser's window, or 
one of those dentists' show-cases, where they keep putting their 
talse teeth in with cambric handkerchiefs (the wax images, I 
mean, you know), there never was such a complexion, or such 
dear pink nostrils, or such a sweet little mouth. And, then, 
his mustache ! No matter what that envious Miss Sourgrapes 
tells you. don't believe that it is dyed, for the raven hue is na- 
ture’s own. 

When I see him coming up the street, his beautiful gray in- 
expressibles, so exactly like legs of mutton in shape, and his 
sleeves to match, and his heavenly boots, so tight and shining, 
and his dear little bob-tailed coat, and his Dundreary neck-tie, 
and his diamond studs, and the daintiest mauve gloves, or some- 
times lemon color, six and a quarter ladies' size, and the little 
cane, with an ivory dog's head, that he twirls, are so bewitching 
that I feel it impossible to portray my sensations vividly with 
my pen; And then, when I think that I may call that magnifi- 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


73 


cent creature mine some day, fancy what the pride of my heart 
must be. 

And now, though I intended to write anonymously, I find I 
must give you my real name. I am Florabella Alice Elizabe- 
thina Perkins. 

I wouldn't for the world have you fancy I might be Miss 
Sourgrapes, to whom Horace Billiwinkle never paid the least 
attention that could have been regarded as serious by any sen- 
sible peason. 

I am the idol of his heart. I know it, for he has told me so 
fifty times. And though Perkins is a common name compared 
with Billiwinkle, and my grandfather was a shoemaker, and it 
was only his great-grandfather s father who kept a junk shop, and 
sold rags, and bottles, and things, we are on a par now, and who 
cares for ancestors so long as they're not publicly mentioned 

There has been, I admit, a coldness between the families 
since that wretch of a cousin of ma's. Miss Charity Grinder, in- 
troduced a number of awful people into our parlors at a party 
we gave, and would talk about poor, shoemaking, respectable 
grandpa. She should have felt sympathy instead. Mrs. Billi- 
winkle should; for though the junk shopman died too long 
ago to be dragged into conversation, I don't believe he was re- 
spectable, and went to church, and all that. In fact, Mrs. 
Crampton Codfish says human bones were found in his shop 
after his decease. 

Poor old Mrs. Crampton Codfish, she needn't talk, for though 
it's ages ago — as much longer before the junk man as the junk 


74 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


man was before the shoemaker — there was a Codfish who came 
to be hung. So, as ma says, when the carriage rolls past, 
with only little shriveled Mrs. C. inside, and four servants 
outside in livery, her line begins in a noose. For all that, 
though, nobody can help envying her the carriage and all those 
calves in silk stockings dangling about it. It is so stylish. 

There I go, wandering away from the point. I set out to tell 
you about what happened to us — Horace and I — last Saturday ; 
for Horace, as I meant to say when I left off, is not altered by 
circumstances over which I had no control. 

We meet — and oh ! a piece of romance is so delightful — 
against Mrs. Billiwinkle’s will ; sometimes at that sweet Matilda 
Dorkine’s, whD is my dearest confidante and friend, sometimes 
in Broadway itself, at least three times a week. 

Last Saturday we had an appointment to go to a matinee to- 
gether. A musical matinee of the most elegant and select de- 
scription, or Horace Billiwinkle never would have invited me. 
He ot all persons dislikes to mingle with the vulgar rabble. 

First we were to lunch at Maillard’s, and there we met. (It 
wasn’t wrong, for ma knew all about it, though of course she 
pretends to be deceived.) 

We were sipping our chocolate. I had on my pea-green silk' 
looped up over a skirt of black and silver ; my velvet basq ue 
and the last new bonnet, just the shape of a Roman helmet, and 
as much false hair as I could fasten on, though my own is very 
abundant, and measures a yard. In fact I waa stylish enough 
to match dear Horace, and I knew it 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


7S 


Well, we were sipping our chocolate, and conversing, as we 
do converse at times when no one listens to us but the angels, 
when, oh, gracious goodness I I heard somebody scream : 

'‘There you are, Florabella ! I du declare. New York is the 
greatest place for meeting folks ! How's your ma ? Hoppin' 
mad with me yet, I reckon. Ain't I glad to sit down — this 
here bundle is as heavy as a ton of coal. " 

And down in the seat before us plumped Charity Grinder. 

It's a mercy one of the cups didn't fly at her head. I felt my 
fingers closing round the handle so closely. 

“Is it the lady from- the country.?" asked Horace, in his 
charming, unaffected way. “Weally, what does she want?" 

“ I can't think," I whispered. Then I said, with a smile, for 
in society we must^mile though our hearts are bleeding : 

“Come in for refreshments, I suppose. Miss Grinder?" 

“Yes," said Charity. “Them waiters won't hook my bundle 
if I sot it on the floor, will they ?" 

“Oh, no," said I, looking at my watch. “Mr. Billiwinkle, 
I'm afraid we're late. Sorry to leave you, Miss Grinder, but we 
are going to a matinee. " 

Horace took the hint. 

“Vewy sorry," he said, and then he beckoned a waiter, and 
gave him a bank bill. 

“You see that elderly lady with a parcel?" he whispered. 
“Stuff her with charlotte russe and things, and keep the change." 

“That will keep her safe," he said to me. And we smiled, 
and bowed, and left, I thinking, as Horace so wittily remarked, 
that Charity was “safe" for an hour or so. 


76 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Alas, we'd only walked a block when a crossin' sweeper ran 
up to us, and said : 

‘'Stop a minute, missus; there's some one coming after 
you. " 

I knew in a flash who it was. Before I could think of a plan 
of escape. Charity was up with us. I thought I should die. 
She had her bundle in one hand and her blue cotton umbrella 
in the other, and came up talking. 

“Lawful suz !" she shouted. (Why is it nature gives such 
people such loud voices?) “Thought Td never catch ye. 
Here, Mr. Billiwinkle, take my numberill, and I’ll catch hold 
of your arm, so’s not to get separated. " 

And she did run her paw, in a great glove, with fur at the 
wrist, up to the elbow, through Horace’s arm, and put the um- 
brella into his hand. I don’t know whether he was bewildered 
or afraid of her, she was so big and strong, but he took the um- 
brella — such a baggy one, with no ferule, and a great hook at 
the end of the long pole — and let her hold fast to him. I’ve 
described his dress — fancy him with Charity, in a yellow shawl, 
and her awful bonnet a quarter of a yard above her head on the 
face, and with nine blue cabbage roses and an imitation lemon 
on the brim, and a bundle tied up in a red handkerchief on her 
arm — with his cane in one hand and the umbrella in the other, 
and his mouth wide open, and his eyes shut tight, with an eye- 
glass in one of them — so horrified by what had happened to 
him that his senses had, I’m sure, left him for a while entirely. 
It was my impulse to rush from the spot and hide myself in an 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


77 


omnibus. But could I desert my Horace under such horrible 
circumstances Lord forbid ! I walked by his side, feeling that 
if, after such a sacrifice, he could ever cease to adore me, he was 
less than man. And all the while Charity was talking. 

When I heerd you say you was goin' to a mattyneigh, I 
thought rd go tu,'' she said. ‘‘I never seen one, and I want 
tu see all the sights. Lor' ! here we are, ain't we?" For just 
then a wretch of a Jew boy thrust himself before us, crying, 
“Opera-glasses for the viatinety sir I" 

“ Hurry in," said Charity, “and get good places." 

And she dragged Horace on > and he, like one out of his 
senses, took three tickets, and went straight on. 

“Horace," I whispered, “ make her let go, can't you ?" 

And he answered like one in a dream : 

‘ ' Pewhaps we can lose her in the cwowd. " 

He got her into a seat, and in the bustle of entrance people 
didn’t notice much, or thought she didn't come with us. Then 
away we went, as fast as we could, to the other part of the house ; 
though Horace, in his confusion, held tight to the umbrella, 
until I absolutely took it out of his hand and put it under a 
seat. 

The orchestra began to play, and the audience to whisper, 
and fans to flutter, and I allowed Horace to touch my toe with 
his, and it was as like Paradise as earth could be. 

But, alas ! earthly bliss is ever fleeting. 

Signora Screechorina had just begun that lovely thing from 
the Bandit's Bride, which the libretto translates : 


78 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


“ Horrible villain as thou art, 

Still my soul adores, respects thee !” 

(though there is something so funny about those translations, 
you can’t be sure of them unless you know Italian) ; when we 
heard some one say : 

“Shove along, mister man, and let me get to where my folks 
is — them young folks there. He’s courtin’ her, and she’s my 
first cousin’s darter,” and along came Charity, with every glass 
in the house turned toward her. 

“Thought I’d come alongside of you,” she said. “I’m 
kinder puzzled. Which is the mattyneigh } Him or her } or 
the /fanner ; or what? or ain’t it come on yet? Good gracious ! 
where’s my numberill? You hain’t lost it” 

“Do hush!” I whispered. 

“Hush!” says Charity. “No I won’t — that numberill cost 
two dollars when it was new, ” and up she rose. 

‘ ' Sorry, to interrupt the mattyneigh, ” she shouted. ‘ ‘ But 
my numberill has been gone off with. Blue cotton, with a 
hook for the handle. Anybody that took it had best bring it 
back to Mr. Billiwinklum, sottin’ beside me, or I’ll have ’em 
arrested. Go on, mum,” she said to the signora, noddin. i t 
her. “And after all, if I have interrupted you, I don’t keep on 
jawin’ all the time like the rest of em ; so you needn’t stare at 
me.” 

And down she sat again. 

I felt something fall against me. It was the form of Horace 
Billiwinkle. He had fainted. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


79 


Of course they took him out — of course Cousin Charity came 
with us, and the climax was arrived at when she would take 
him home in a cab and looked out of the window to tell the 
driver. 

'‘You see it's my duty to see to him. He's engaged to my 
Cousin Perkins' darter — Florabella Alice. " 

1 should wish myself dead, only I knew Charity is pious, and 
is sure to go to Heaven, and the first thing I know I should see 
a ghost (these modem spiritualist ideas upset one's theology so, 
they used always to be in white), a ghost in a yellow shawl, 
with a bundle, who would say : 

“Lor', Florabella Alice— here you are. I must say it's a sur- 

prise, seein' you ain’t a Baptist." 

Maybe it's wicked to write such nonsense, but I'll go to 
Grace Church twice next Sunday, and try to make up for it. 

Your wretched 

Florabella Alice Elizabethina Perkins. 

P. S. — Despite of what has happened, Horace Billiwinkle 
and I still adore each other. 

F. a. e. p. 


8o 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER TEN. 

MISS CHARITY GRINDER MAKES A MISTAKE. 

It is the fault of New York for being so similar, and I ain’t 
tu blame. Besides, I was the most skeered of the hull bilin’, 
so ef any one is tu complain, it’s me. While I was under the 
impression it was housebreakers, I thought I should conglom- 
merate. Laws a mighty I how my blood did friz in my veins, 
to be sure ! 

You see, this is how it happened. I went to pay a visit to 
Miss Pecksalter — she ’twas Abby Brownbags. She ain’t no re- 
lation, but her ma was a neighbor of ourn, when she was four 
years old ; so we may consider her an intimate friend o’ the fam- 
ily. She married fust-rate, and has lived in New York ever 
since. 

I had her name found out for me in the directory, and went 
up there one afternoon, and she received me very politely, made 
all the world of me, and had on two kinds o’ preserves, and two 
kinds of cake, and potted salmon, and lots o’ things. Peck- 
salter is in the hullsale grocery line, and is a good provider. 

She lived in a brick house, with brown-stone steps and facings, 
and iron railings, and there was ten houses in a row, all alike 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


8i 


except the numbers. The fun of it was they was all furnished 
alike, tu. It’s generally so in York — what one has t’others will 
hev tu^ — so’t you’d think they was all relations. 

Reason ain’t, I reckon, there’s so many would like to be fust 
folks, and ain’t quite sure how that they look around and see 
other folks in the same predicament, and kinder try to imitate 
’em, thinkin’, to be sure, they know, when they don’t no more 
than t’others. 

It’s so with Miss Pecksalter. Twarn’t tu be expected she’d 
be up to the inquisitions o’ serciety, when her ma took in wash- 
in’, and was glad tu get it, tu, poor old lady. She’s gone where 
there ain’t no washin’, an’ things must be done up to stay so, 
accordin’ to the gineral idee of their whiteness. ’Taint about 
poor old Miss Brownbags, however, I sot down to tell you, 
but about what happened to me. 

Miss Pecksalter was mighty polite — I never seen nobody more 
so — and I staid with her about a week. Toward the eend o’ 
that time I went and spent an arternoon with a friend o’ mine 
(I’ll mention more pertickeler some day) by the name of Low- 
ery, and as there was to be company there, I expected I’d stay 
late. 

''If you do,” says Miss Pecksalter, says she, "take the latch- 
key, and you won’t hev to wait for the door to be opened.” 

So I was very much pleased with the idee, and took it and 
went. 

I stayed where I went until about eleven, and then was seen 
hum. 


82 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Mr. Lowery came with me, and says he : 

Shall I wait until they let you in?” 

'^No,” says I; ‘‘IVegot a latch-key,” and off he went, and 
in I walked, easy enough, shut the door arter me, and went 
up stairs. 

My room is the back one on the second floor (that's Miss 
Pecksalter s spare bedroom), and, of course, when I got in 
'twas as dark as Egypt. I had thought I should find the matches 
on the shelf, but they warn't there, and 'twas a good while be- 
fore I found 'em on the bureau. Then I lit the gas and un- 
dressed. 

I had put on my nightgown under my dress to be ready in 
case of staying, if it rained, at the Lowery's. So I didn't waste 
no time rummaging. Tossed the things I took off on a cheer ; 
turned the gas low, and got into bed. In five minutes I was 
sound asleep, and dreamin'. I remember I dreamed I was at 
the Kitterkins’, and she was makin' dirt pies for dinner, when a 
noise woke me up. 

I lifted up my eyes and saw the door open and a man come 
ini 

I tried to scream out, but was too skeered, so I just laid still. 

He shut the door arter him, and walked in, and straight up 
to the gas, which he turned on, full head, and then over to the 
bureau, which he began to rummage. I thought I should die. 
Next thing I expected he'd take out some kind of a weapon, 
and begin to murder me. 

However, he didn’t seem to see me ; so I laid out as flat and 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


83 


straight as I could, and hardly breathed, though, for the life of 
me, I could not help leaving a place in the quilts to peek through. 
He was the boldest housebreaker I ever saw, I thought ; for he 
took off his overcoat, and took a cigar from the pocket, and be- 
gan to smoke. Then I knew it was all up with me, for smok- 
in’ always chokes me. Well, I was right; in five minutes I be- 
gan to cough. 

I hadn’t given two coughs^ when he looked around. 

‘"Sing’ler,” says he, and went on smokin’. In a minute more 
I barked agin, and says he : 

‘'By George, that’s in my room,” and he got up, and began 
to poke about. The mmute he said “that’s in my room,” I 
began to guess what I had done. I’d gone in next door instead 
of tu Miss Pecksalter’s, and this here was the bachelor brother 
that was expected, as Miss Pecksalter told me, to leave all his 
property to the children. 

He was quite on in years, but very musical — I’d heard him 
singin’ often. 

Yes, that was him, and this was his room, and when I com- 
prehended it, I turned cold all over. I laid as flat as I could, 
but in a minute he spied me out. 

“There’s somebody in the bed,” says he. 

Then I was obligated to put my head out, and the only mis- 
ery there was in that awful dispensation was that I had on my 
best nightcap — Swiss muslin, with inserting in the border, and 
lace on the ends of the strings. 

The minute he saw me he cried out : 


84 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


“ Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! It’s an old lady !” 

'‘Old yourself/' says I ; for I was so mad I forgot everything 
else. 

Then the hull horror of my situation burst upon me, and I 
wept. 

Says he : "Well, this is the queerest go I ever did see. Who 
may you be ?" 

"Tm the unhappy Miss Charity Grinder," says I. " I’ve got 
here by mistake. I live next door. If you've got any perlite- 
ness in you you'll go into the pantry and shet the door while I . 
dress. " 

When I said that he turned as red as flannel, and says he : 

"With the greatest pleasure, ma'am," and flowed into the 
pantry. 

I got up, turned the key on him, put a bit o' paper in the 
keyhole, and dressed faster than I ever did in all my life before. 
Then I unlocked it and cut out of the room, and down stairs tu 
the street door. 

More haste less speed. Ef I hadn't been so fast I'd have been 
surer. Half way down I tumbled and came near breaking my 
neck. 

The noise I made brought somebody to the door of the front 
room. The lady of the house, I calkerlated, by her voice. 

She called out "Who's there.?" three times; but you may 
bet I didn't answer. And I got the door open, and was at the 
next house, and had that unlocked before you could count 
sixty. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 




I made my way up stairs as fast as I could — for I wouldn't 
have anybody find out what had happened for worlds — and got 
into my own room and into my own bed, thank fortune, at last. 

And as I went to sleep, I was glad nobody knew it but the 
old bachelor, who'd be sure to say nothin', for he must feel as 
bad ?s me. But, lawful suz ! there is times when the hull crea- 
tion seems agin you. I might as well hev hollered it out at 
once. 

Not knowin' that, I went down to breakfast lookin' as ef noth- 
in' had happened, and got talkin' to Mr. Pecksalter about York 
markets. 

Sez I, ‘'I hain't seen one yet." 

Sez he, “Well, I'm goin' to market this mornin'. Get on 
your things and I'll show you what New York markets are." 

So I went up to get 'em. There was my bonnet, but there 
was somethin' that didn't seem like my new cloak that I'd only 
bought the day before. It felt so funny about the arms, and was 
kinder tight in the skirt. I called to Miss Pecksalter. 

“See here," sez I, “we hain't changed cloaks, hev we? 
This don't appear to fit." 

“It's a man's coat," says she, in astonishment. “Why, what 
on earth have you been doin'? 'Tisn't Mr. Pecksalter's. His 
is brown. Seems to me I've seen it before, tu. How could you 
change your cloak for this without knowing it?" 

Then she dived into a pocket, and out came a cigar-case with 
a name on't. 

“Land alive I" says she, reading the name; “it's Mr. James 


86 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Dumpling. Why, that s the old bachelor that lives next door. 

‘^It can’t be his,'' says 1. 

‘ ‘ Then whose is it ?" says she, and I felt turning scarlet. 

What I should have said, I don't know, but at that minute 
there came a ring at the bell, and somebody asked to see Miss 
Grinder. • 

It was the Dumpling's hired girl, and she looked very red and 
discomfiscated. 

‘ ‘ Could I see you alone, miss ?" says she. 

/ ^ Certainly, " says I, and I took her up to my bedroom. < 

Then she laid down a bundle she had, and says she : 

Mister James Dumpling says, 'If you please, send him 
his'n. ' " 

And I saw it was my cloak she'd brought along with her. 

I took up his coat and gin it to her. Says I : 

"I s'pose you know all about it?'' 

Then she burst out a laughin'. 

"Yes," says she. "Missus found this in Mr. James' room, 
and he had to tell, miss. They're roarin' about it over the 
breakfast this minute." 

After that, of course, there was no payin' her not to mention 
it. And, indeed, she'd told the hull to our girl in the area an 
hour before. And the story got about, and I was grinned at in- 
doors, and grinned at out, until I was fairly sick on't 

At last it got to be too bad to bear, and I packed up and 
went over to Brooklyn, where I have some connections. 


THE GRINDEE PAPERS. 


67' 


NUMBER ELEVEN. 

MISS CHARITY MEETS A POSTMASTER-GENERAL. 

Ever since Tve cum down from Peekskill IVe intended for to 
write to Miss Griffin. Somehow, though, Tve gone and put it 
off and put it off until seemed to me I wouldn't never do it. 
However, lak Sunday was a week, I did sot down and give her 
an account of most o' the things that I'd been through since I 
got to York, with the heft of what I could find out about the 
folks I visited, and all I reckoned about the rest — made it as in- 
terestin' as I could, and put it in an envelope and directed it, 
so's to have it by me Monday mornin', when I intended to hunt 
up some relatives o' mine I'd heered was come to York. 

Well, Monday came, and as I started out I said to Cousin 
Marthy, (I’m there agin a spell,) 

** Where’s the post-office, Marthy?’' 

‘‘Goin’ to put in a letter ?" says she, 

“Yes,” says I. 

“Oh!” says she, “Well, you needn’t go to the post-office; 
only jest slip it into one o’ them boxes on the lamp-posts. 
They'll do as well.” 


83 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Says I, '' Land alive, what’s York cornin’ to? Be them post- 
offices ?” 

She laughs, and says she . 

'‘Well, they’re letter-boxes, and they save a long journey. 
They’re quite a convenience. ” 

"Of course they be,” says I, and out I went to put the letter 
in first off* before I did another thing. 

I walked along, looking for a lamp-post, and soon I come to 
one. There was a box to it, and beside it stood a young man 
in a plaid waistcoat and very ily hair, smoking and whistling. 

"Is this here the post-office, young man?” says I. 

He looks at me a minute and grins — what fur. I’d like to 
know — and says he; 

"Yes’m, and I’m postmaster-general of this corner.” 

" Oh !” says I. "Well, you needn’t take such airs if you are. 
You government officials always presumes on your position in 
society to be imperdent to them that’s full as good as you, if not 
a little better None o’ your airs to me. I want a letter put in 
to the office for Peekskill. What d’ye tax ?” 

"Oh,” said he, "that depends on weight, mum.” 

"Well,” says, I, "what does this weigh ?” 

I gin him the letter, and he balanced it upon his thumb, and 
says he : 

"Well, this is a purty heavy letter. I’ll tax seventy-five cents 
for it It’s less than it ought to be, but considerin’ you’re an old 
lady ” 

' ' Like your imperdence, ” says I. ' * Old 1 ” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


89 


Middle-age, I meant,'' says he. 

'‘Oh says I ; “say so next time. Seventy-five cents. What 
an awful postage !" 

“It's owin' to the rise in cotton and gold," says he. “They 
went up double yesterday." 

“Oh!" says 1. “Well, I suppose it can't be helped. But 
I sha'n’t write much more at that rate ; correspondence would be 
too expensive. Will you take it safe?" 

“Of course I shall," says he. “Come, now, my time is of 
value. " 

So I gave him the letter, and three twenty-five cent stamps, 
and went away, but as I looked back I saw him goin' in to a 
liquor store. 

“I didn't like the looks o' that, and it struck me I'd stop at 
Marthy's agin and ask her whether he was trustworthy. So I 
did. I tapped at the basement window and she came. 

“Marthy," says I, “what kind of a fellow is the postmaster- 
general at the corner ?" 

“ Hey?" says she. 

“The postmaster-general at the corner," says I. 

Says she, /‘What on earth has been happening to you now P' 
So I up and told her. When I did she set to laughing until I 
thought she'd get hysterics. By and by, seeing how mad I was 
getting, she stopped and begun to explain — how't there warn't 
no such officiate, and how't the letter and the money was likely 
stolen. 


90 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


' ' The letter ain't, " says I ; ' * I seen him put that in the 
box. " 

“Oh," says she, “then if it was stamped it will go." 

“Land alive," says I, “it hadn't no stamp on it. Up home 
I always give the money to the people at the office, and they 
put them on. So I thought he would. Where d'ye get 
stamps?" 

‘ ' Oh, " says she, ' ‘ I have plenty here, " and she opened her 
pocket-book and gave me a couple. 

“Now if I had my letter out, I'd put it on," says 1. 

She laughed, and says she : 

“You'll have to write another one." 

But I was determined not to. I didn't say nothin' to Marthy, 
but I posted up to my bedroom, and got a long bit o' whale- 
bone, and . made a hook on the end of it with a pin, and then 
down I marched to the corner and began to try to get out my 
letter. 

It was plaguey work. The little flap kept a falling down, 
and fish as I could, I couldn't find nothing. I’ve got a heap of 
spirit, though, and I kept on. At last the pin did stick in 
something, and I fished a letter up, so's I could stick in my 
fingers and get it out. 'Twasn't mine, though; 'twas directed 
to a Miss Albertina Briggs. 

I was provoked, I tell you, and I held it in my hand while I 
fished again. About ten minutes after up come another. Then 
I thought I'd got mine, for sure, but this time 'twas a dirty 
affair, directed to Bridget Rooney. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


91: 


What on earth possessed me not to put 'em back, I don't 
know, but I held ’em while I went on peepin' into the little 
hole and forgettin’ everything else, when down comes a hand on 
my shoulder, and a voice says in my ear : 

‘^Caught you at last, eh?” 

And there was a policeman. , 

'^What are you doin’?” says he. 

'‘Trying to get my letter out,” says 1. 

"Needn’t play the innocent on me,” says he. "Come, give 
me your implements. ” 

And he took away the letters and the whalebone and pin, and 
caught me by the arm, and marched me away up street. 

There was a train of boys a mile long arter us, and I shrieked 
the hull way. 

I’ve knowed ever since jest how what's-her-name, with yaller 
hair — Antoinette somebody, that brother’s got an engraving of 
over the mantletry tu hum — felt when the French Revolutioners 
were dragging her away to the gillytine. It’s spelt more French- 
ified in the engraving, but I can’t jest remember how. I haven't 
a doubt — though I had no looking-glass — that — my phizma- 
hogany had jest the touchin’ expression o' hern. 

They took me to a station-house — they did, indeed ; and 
then the policeman says to the gentleman behind a desk : 

"Here’s the person who has been robbing the letter-boxes in 
this ward. I’ve jest captured her and her implements. 

"Oh, what a dreadful thing!” says I. "I ain’t, Mr. Judge 
and Jury, I aint. I’m highly respectable and a professor, and 




THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


ril have him sued for libel the minute I can write to my brother 
to come down and do it.” 

‘‘Silence.” says the gentleman. “This is a very ingenious 
contrivance, ” and he looked at the whalebone and pin like an 
owl. “Were there any letters on her person?” 

“Two,” says the policeman, handin' 'em up. 

“ I was goin' to put 'em back,” says I. 

“Silence !” says the gentleman. 

“Hold your own tongue !” says 1. “I suppose you'd like to 
hang me and not have me speak a word.” 

“This is useless,” says the gentleman. “But in consider- 
ation of your age and sex I may promise you some clemency: 
if you give up your accomplices. ” 

“Well,” says I, “I kin knit, and work cross stitch, and make 
paper flowers, and do tambour work, and I did once paint a 
piece on velvet, but the teacher finished it up. ” 

“ Is the woman crazy?” said the gentleman. 

“Them's my accomplices,” says I, “and I allers hev been 
considered accomplished up tu Peekskill.” 

“No evasion,” said the gentleman. “If you are in league 
with light-fingered Dick you might as well own it. ” 

“I ain’t engaged to nobody,” says I. Parson Scrag does 
call tu brother’s now and then, but 'tain’t for me to say he 
comes to see meT 

‘ ‘ She's a deep one, ” says the policeman. 

“It will not avail her,” said the gentleman. “I must com- 
mit her,” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


9J 


'*1 knowed that was a legal term for sending me to prison, 
and down I flopped on my knees. 

' ^ Don’t, ’’ says I ; ^ ' Til make full confession. ” 

' ' Very well, ” says the gentleman ; and another sat down at 
his desk and begun to write. 

'^Fm Miss Charity Grinder,” says I. 

‘"Got that down, secretary?” says the gentleman. 

“Yes, sir,” says he. 

“Tm from Peekskill,” says I, “and my brother is named 
Jonathan, and I belong to Dr. Cluppins’ ” 

‘ Is he one of the gang?” says he. 

“Gang !” says I. “ He’s our pastor. 

“Oh 1” says he. 

“I come tu York to visit my relatives and see the sights/ 
says I; “and if this is one of ’em, I wish I’d staid at home. 
I wouldn’t never hev been here if it hadn’t been for the post- 
master-general.” 

“Gracious goodness ! what does the woman mean ?” says the 
gentleman. 

So I told him the hull on’t about the letter and the seventy- 
five cents, and all, and says I : 

“I didn’t want nobody else’s, but when I’d fished ’em I was 
afraid of catchin’ ’em agin, so I didn’t want to put ’em back, Mr. 
Judge and Jury, until I’d got mine. If that there policeman 
had knowed his duty, he’d hev seen I was a respectable lady, 
and never hev took me up for a highway housebreaker.” 

Then I give him Cousin Marthy’s address, and told him he 


94 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


knowed ’twas all.true. It appeared he was well acquainted with 
her husband, and he begun to believe me. 

He called a policeman and sent him to the house, and soon 
Marthy canie around, in an awful rage with me. I could see 
that by her face. No more sympathy, the cruel wretch, than if 
rd been a stranger. 

What she said, however, was enough ; and they didn’t send 
me to prison ; but I heard Marthy ask in a whisper : 

• Isn’t there any legal way of making her go home? I’m 
sure she’ll manage to disgrace us completely if she stays much 
longer. She ought to be in Bedlam. ” 

I was goin’ to flare up at that, but I decided not. You see 
York folks is so techy that most on ’em where I’ve been is 
oflfended a’ready; and I mean to stay till I’ve made my match, 
and I don’t mean to board while I do. Boardin’ is expensive. 
Besides, there’s real good eatin’ at Marthy ’s. Wouldn’t be, 
though, if she hadn’t a nigger to cook, and I ain’t goin’ to give 
her a chance to quarrel with me. I walked home, hookin’ arm 
with her, and all the sassy boys we met kept a hollerin’, 
“There’s the woman that was took up !” the hull way. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


95 


NUMBER TWELVE. 

CHARITY IS ECONOMICAL. 

Sence IVe come to York the thing that's ..flabbergusted me 
most (I don't mind tollin' you, Mrs. Lemon, now we're takii^' 
a quiet cup o' tea together), has been the fashions. • I can't get 
at 'em. They look plain enough, but there's alius a mystery 
connected with 'em. 

Now, there's the hair. Du you suppose it grows nat'ral, sort 
o' standin' on eend, in York, and all frizzled, or do they du it? 
Du it, hey. Well, what they want tu look like colored folks, 
that hain't had time to use the fine-tooth comb, for, I don't 
know. 

Well, along when I fust come they wore bonnets without no 
crowns tu 'em ; and then, jest as I got mine cut out, they've 
took to wearin' the curiousest kind of a bugle tu the back. 
The hull affair looks more like a tin puddin'-case, with the 
cover lifted, than anythin' else; and do all I. would, mine 
wouldn't stick up so. 

Well, altogether I've tried and tried to be fashionable, until 
my brains is wore out, and yet I heerd one o' the helps (I’m 


96 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


stayin' tu Mirandy's now, ahd she's got lots of 'em), say I was 
the oldest-fashionedest critter she ever did see. That riled me, 
Mrs. Lemon, and when I came to consider on’t I made up my 
mind that, come what would, I’d show ’em I could be in fashion 

tu. 

That day I looked at Mirandy’s eldest gal, and took perticke- 
ler notice what she stuck on. Fust, she had a tight jacket, with 
a short tail, and then her dress was festooned up, and under she 
had a striped petticoat, and a pair o' boy’s boots, and a boy’s 
hat, with a vail tu one side, and her hair was fixed roundetv, 
towndety, as slick as you please. I thought I would ask one 
question. 

“Em’ly," says I, ^'what do you call that way o' doin' hair?” 

‘‘A coil," says she. 

“Lor' !" says I, “what a lot o' hair you must hev !" 

“Oh," says she, “it’s around suthin', you know. No mortal 
hair could make one as big as this without. " 

Well, I’d got what I wanted to about the hair, and I could 
see the rest, and next Sunday I made up my mind to be in the 
fashion, and do it cheap, tu. I ain’t goin’ to spend all creation 
— leave that for Mirandy. If underskirts with stripes in ’em 
was stylish, I could cut off a striped one I had, and I could pin 
up my frock, tu. 

That arternoon I went out to make the other purchases. I 
got the boy’s hat in the Bowery, and the boots at a little cob- 
bler’s up town aways, and the bologny at a butcher’s shop, of 
course. What is a bologny ? Why, one o’ them bologny saus- 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


97 


ages, smoked, you know. I could see as plain as daylight that 
one o' them, or somethin’ for all the world like it, was what 
Em’ly had under her coil. I was goin’ to hev a coil, tu. 

I went hum and locked myself into my room. I had one o’ 
them long vails they used to wear fifteen or twenty years ago. 
and that I tacked on tu one side o’ the boy’s hat, and then I tuk 
the feather out o’ my bunnit, and put that in ; and then I cut 
off my striped skirt and hemmed it for a balmoral. I couldn’t 
get used to the boots, but if they was fashionable I was bound 
to wear ’em. I had a tight jacket, tu — one I used to wear in- 
doors; and I sot tu and put fringe on that. And then I waited 
for Sunday. The worst time I had was gettin’ the bologny soft. 
It was as stiff as a wire at first. Bimeby, though, I got it sos’t 
’would twist. 

Mirandy’s folks go to a splendid church in Broadway, where 
the folks take mighty airs, I can tell you ; and that mornin’ I let 
’em go first. Then I sot tu work and dressed. My hair always 
has been heavy, and it covered the bologny up right smart. 
Law, what a crick in the neck it gave me, thougn ; and how 
cold I felt without my cap and my ears all bare. Then I stuck 
on the boy’s boots, and pinned up my frock, and stuck the hat 
on, and took one of my biggest pocket handkerchiefs by the 
middle along of my best numberill handle— and if I wasn’t fash- 
ionable at last, ’twasn’t my fault. 

Folks did stare at me as I went down street ; but law, I stared 
back, and when I cum to the church they were howlin’ away in- 
side for dear life. They don’t sing altogether, liLe they ought 


98 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


tu, but one young: woman goes away ahead, with a shriek like 
a steam-engine, and a man (I judge by his voice, for it's all down 
in his stomach) comes after her two words and two notes be- 
hind, as if he was a passenger tryin' to catch up to the train and 
couldn't; and the rest don't seem to be very particular about 
anything but not pronouncing their words plain. Em'ly and 
Mirandy say it's splendid ; for my part, I should think there'd 
be a judgment on 'em for not lettin' the congregation jine in. 

Well, they was singin' when I went in, and I went up the 
aisle after a very nice young man, that's took such a notion to 
me he always gets me a seat. Couldn’t see, for my part, what 
folks grinned for so. I wasn't the only one cum in late. 

He took me to Mirandy's pew. She was asleep, and Em’ly 
was lookin' at the young men; but when I whispered '‘shove 
up, and lemme in," they both looked at me. And how they 
looked. 

' ' Ah, ” says I, in a whisper, you see I kin be fashionable, too, 
if I like — the coil was the hardest; but I'm goin' to wear it 
reg'lar now." 

They didn't say nothin', but they looked very curious. 
Seemed if Mirandy was going to faint. 

Says I : “Ain’t you well?" 

Says she, in a whisper: “Go home; don't stay here no 
longer. " 

Says I: “Why?" 

“Don’t you see the people ?" says she. And they were all 
grinning. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


99 


I ain't got nothin' black on my face, have I ?" says I ; and 
just then I felt suthin' cold on my neck — for all the world like 
a snake. 

‘‘Ugh," says I, and puts up my hand ; and law the hair had 
got loose, and the coil was cornin' down, and there was the bo- 
logny slippin' lower and lower. 

''Stick it up for me, Em'ly," says I ; but she didn't budge. 
And next minute, bang came my bologny, and my back comb, 
and the hat, and feather, and vail into the middle aisle. 

There wasn’t no need o' askin' me to go home then. I jest 
ran, leavin' 'em where they was. When I got out, I put my 
handkercher over my head and cut home. 

Mirandy and Em'ly came home in the carriage arter awhile, 
and begun to have high-strikers. Seein' that was the thing, I 
sat tu and helped 'em, and that brought 'em tu. Then it come 
out that I’d done wrong altogether.' 

'Stead o' getttin' boys’ boots, I’d orter got "Polish boots, 
and 'stead o' havin' a boy's hat, I orter had a ' ' Derby. " And 
my basque wasn’t the thing neither, and the bologny was worst 
of all. 

They don't wear bolognys, bat a kind o' thing made of nig- 
ger's wool on wires. 

"Anyway," says Mirandy, "you'd orter dress suitable tu 
your age, if you'd had the best things tu be bought. " 

"How's that ?" says I. 

"Like me," says she. 

Says I : /lev dressed that way all along." 


lOO 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Says she: '^Its plain you don't understand the fashions, 
Charity. '' 

And between you and me, I reckon I don't ; not York fash- 
ions, any way, and what’s more, I don't wan't to. 

But, upon my word, Mrs. Lemon, the boy's hat and the 
Derby, and the boots I had, and them Em’ly had, didn’t look 
any different to me. And as for the bologny, if it hadn't come 
out, it was the slickest. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


lOI 


NUMBER THIRTEEN. 

CHARITY GRINDER IS POISONED. 

How am I ? Wal, Tm alive, and the only wonder is I ain't 
here to invite ye to my funeral ? Been sick ? Why, lawful 
suz ! Tve been nearer dead than I ever was before. Eve been 
pisoned I I ain't over it yet. Jest put the rocking-cheer before 
the fire and give me a footstool, and any kind of a piece of cake 
and a glass of wine you've got handy, and I'll tell you all about 
it. You see I've been so shook that I always feel a kind o' 
empty gnawing tu the pit o' my stomach at twelve o'clock, un- 
less I hev somethin' tu eat. I don't keer for no solid lunch ; 
some cold ham or chicken, or a few biscuit, will du me . until 
dinner. And don't make no fuss over dinner for me; ef I hev 
roast beef and two kinds o' vegetables, and some kind o' pud- 
din' for dessert. I'm perfectly contented, and allers have been. 

Yes, Evelina, I hev been pisoned — so's all the Loweiys, the 
hull bilin' of 'em ; and somebody 'cborter to be hung for it — who, 

I can't say, but I lay it tu the nigger. You see they've got one, 
a Freedman young woman, from down South, black as the han-^ 
die o’ that numberill, and jest as sarcy as she kin live and be. 
I’ve tried help o' all kinds — Irish^ and Dutch^ and Americans*-^ 


JZ2 


THE GRIHDER PAPERS. 


ni sar this: thoa^b they re all pessw I wouldn't hev a 
Freedman Tonng woman in tbc p^ace the worn on ‘cm. 

I’fe allers bad a kind o’ dread that them biack cnttex3 woald 
ptson je cf they got mad ; hot, land alh« 1 when I aaed Miss 
Lowcit whether she warn’t, says sbe : 

ma’am. The oppressed race is TOebr siandered. The 
best indiwiduals I ever encountered had black skins. 

^^Ihi telir says L think they’re as good as white 

lolks, then, dn you?” 

Says she, ^‘Better, cf anything. Miss Gtinckr,’* and Mr. ‘ 
Lowery be sp)eaks up, and savs be : 

Far oetter. It is my opmk4i that they are destined some 
dar to be the rulers of this land.” 

I didn’t make no answer. Twam t no nse. I ailers knowed 
the LoweiTS w 2 ls abolitionists, and I didn't want to quarrel with 
’em However I watched the Freedman joui^ woman party 
sharp, and took good care to lock my door when I went to bed 
nights, and I'd staid there a week akwe anything happened. 
Then I iound her in my room washin’ her hce with my old cas> 
tile soap I don’t never use the nasty cuounoQ soap these here 
dty folks her, and the night before Fd happoicd ta been talkin, 
to M^s Loweiy. 

Sa>3 I, ‘‘Why, I lay my skin bein’ so good cndrely to that 
soap. Travelin’ 'round 2ls 1 her this summer. I'd her been as 
black as that gal with freckles cf 1 hadn't used it Y ju see 
there’s iron into it, and that’s good for freckles* 

W’cU, it seems the Freedman yoeng woman been! me, and 


THE GRIXDER PAPERS. 


103 


ne:rt day I found her scourin* herself before the glass. Minute 
I caught her down she went on her knees, and sa\*s she : 

“Oh, please don't tell on me! please don’t, old missus!" 

Sa>*s L “Land alw! Twouldn't be no use to tell, consid- 
erin’ the Lower}*s wouldn’t tech if ye to murder me. 
But what possessed ye to take that soap when there was lots o 
brown down stairs?" 

Saj-s she, “I heerd you say you’d been as black as me ef you 
hadn't used it, and I thort mebbe ef I did I'd come white. ’* 

1 couldn't help larhn. 

“Land o’ Goshen!'’ sa\*s L “Itll take more'n soap to get 
you white, and ef you tech this agin Til take my shoe to you," 
and I locked the door on her; and for fear she might meddle 
agin, I went and wrapped my soap up in paper and stuck it in 
my buzzum, arter I d washed it well, of course. 

W’hen I went down stairs I found Miss Lowery down in the 
kitchen, makin' cake. She was dreadful busy, and 1 set to and 
helped her. I'm a master-hand for gingerbread, and this one I 
made riz up light and brown and as handsome as a pictur. 

“Well hev Mo/ warm for tea," sa}'s Miss Lowery. “Ginger- 
cake is good warm. " 

And she praised it tu the sk^es, as well she might, for it beat 
hers all holler. Then I went up stairs ag n lu wash my hands, 
and made sure to find the soap in my buzzum ; but, bnd-ali\*e, 
'twamt there ! I run d6wn agin and looked, but I couldn't tlnd 
it; and I knowed for sartin the Freedman voung woman lud 
got it somehow, so I marched up to her, and sez 1 ; 


104 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘Now, Hanner,'' — that's her name — “I jist want that soap 
back agin. " 

“I ain't got no soap, missus," sez she. 

Sez I, “You hev." 

And jist then Mrs. Lowery came in, and I told her the hull 
story. 

“She's got it agin," sez I. 

And what d'ye s'pose Mrs. Lowery sez .? 

She ups with her hands and she rolls her eyes, and sez she : 

“Oh, Hanner, Hanner! fur shame fur tu try tu wash away ' 
that badge o' honor, a black skin — ^you'd orter glory in it I" 

Sez Hanner, “I'd ruther be a white lady, please 'm." 

Sez she, “That's because you've been kept in ignorance, 
Hanner. No, Miss Grinder, Hanner is above stealin' your 
soap. " 

“Heaps above it, ole missus," sez Hanner. 

Sez I, “Say old missus to a young lady agin if you durst !" 

And away I marched, and didn't come down until tea time, 
for I felt sure she'd got the soap, and I was mad at Miss Lowery 
for not believing it. 

When the bell rung, down I came, though, and fust thing I 
seen was my ginger-cake on a plate. 

“That's Miss Grinder's make o’ ginger-cake," sez Miss Low- 
ery, “and I know it's nice." 

She's real good-natured. Miss Lowery is, fur I allers give 
everybody their due. 

Well, arter we’d eat our bread and butter and cold meat, she 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


105 


begun passin' around plum sass and ginger-cake, and we all had 
a good-sized slice. They don't shave cake like chipped beef tu 
Miss Lowery’s, as most Yorkers du. 

The Freedman young woman was tu the table. Miss Lowery 
don’t consider color no objection, and I noticed she didn’t eat 
the cake very hearty. For that matter I didn’t myself — seemed 
tu me it had a curus taste. Purty soon one o’ the young us — 
I’d noticed he’d eat most — begun to yell. 

"‘What’s the matter, pet.?^” sez his ma. 

“Tummick ake,” sez he. 

He can’t but jist talk, and before he’d said it, Miss Lowery 
turned the color o’ chalk and rushed out o’ the room. 

That commeced it, and in ten minutes the hull of us was an 
sick as if we’d been tu the middle of the oshin in a storm. 

“We’re pisoned!” sez I, the minute I could find breath tu 
speak. “There ain’t a doubt on’t, Miss Lowery!” 

Sez she, “I know it. Miss Grinder, and I’ve sent for the doc- 
tor. For a wonder, poor Hanner ain’t sick.” 

“Wonder.?” says I. “No, Miss Lowery, it ain’t no wonder, 
for shes pisoned me. She was forever pokin’ her nose into that 
cake while I was makin’ it, and she’s done it.” 

“It’s all your prejudice,” says Miss Lowery. But she hadn’t 
time to say much, for she turned worse just then, and by the 
time the doctor came the house looked like a hospital. Some 
was on sofys, and some on the floor, and I was in a big arm- 
cheer. 

The minute I saw him I screeched out : 


io6 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


‘'We’re pisoned, doctor, and the Freedman young woman 
did it. With my dyin’ breath I insist on havin’ her hung.” 

'‘It’s — pre — ^ju — dice,” gasps Miss Lowery. 

The doctor didn’t say nothin’, but he looked at our tongues, 
and felt our pulses, and says he : 

‘ ‘ There’s every symptom of poisoning by prussic acid. ” 

‘T know it/’ says I. “How long will I live 

Says he, “Oh, we’ll have you well again; don’t be agitated.” 

Says I, “Agitated! Why, what du ye expect Don’t I know 
symptoms is allers fatal. When a body comes tu symptoms it's ^ 
time tu gin up.” 

“Tut, tut,” says he, “nonsense, nonsense. I’ll prepare a 
nannygoat. ” 

Must hev said antidote, hey? Well, I ain’t sure. I was so 
discomfusticated — he mought. 

Says I, ‘ ‘ Nannygoats nor nuthin’ won’t help ; but before I 
die o’ these symptoms, I want that Freedman young woman 
hung.” 

Says he, “She can’t escape punishment; but I sha’n’t let you 
die.” 

He looked awfully discomfited, though I knowed by his 
phyzmahogany he’d give us up. By this time t’other doctor that 
he sent for, it seems, arrived, and he sot up kis opinion that the 
symptoms was arsenic ; and then another came, and his belief 
was strychnine. When I heerd that, and heerd him say that 
you expired with it instantaneous, slap dab, the minute it got 
intu your stomach, I felt there wasn’t no hope. Meanwhile 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


107 


they went to work dosin' us, and each one dosed his patient for 
what he thought it was, and they looked like tiger-cats at each 
other; and one of 'em says, ^‘Gross malpractrice; and another, 
''Abominable ignorance;" and the youngest, "Absurd old 
fogyism." 

You're sure about nannygoats? I know what he give me was 
nasty enough to be anything. 

Well, we was all at the pint o' death, when some o' the neigh- 
bors, that had been called in by the news, came intu the parlor. 
Among 'em was an old lady by the name o' Perkins, and the 
minute she came, she looks at us, and then at the tea-table, and 
says she : 

"What hev ye been eatin'. Miss Lowery?" 

Says I, '"Twas in the ginger-ccke (Miss Lowery couldn't 
speak). I tasted suthin' suspicious, and the Freedman young 
woman did it." 

' ' Don’t be tu sure, " says she, ' ‘ it may be accident ; we ought 
not tu bear false witness agin our neighbors," and she goes to 
the table. 

She cuts the cake and smells it, and tastes it, and spits it out; 
and says she : 

"'Tis in the cake, sure enough. But ye needn't be afeerd o' 
dyin'. It's soap as plain as daylight. Look-a'-here, doctor, if 
'tain't soap I'm a baby." 

Well, the doctor went and smelt, and tasted, and the rest done 
the same, and finally they made up their minds it was soap, and 
come to cut it up, there was my piece of pink pin paper with a 


io8 THE GRINDER PAPERS, 

bit o' melted soap in it yet, right in the middle. I s'pose it had 
fell out o' my buzzum while I was mixin' the cake. 

Them that wasn't sick begun to laugh then, and them that 
was sick begun to get better, and we're all alive tu this day. 
But for all that, I think the Freedman young woman ought tu 
be hung ; for though the soap was there, there must hev been 
pison tu, for the three doctors all said we had symptoms, and 
symptoms can't be fetched on by common soap. Miss Lowery 
sticks tu it how't was nuthin' but soap ; so does he. But when 
I gets tu jawin', I always says : 

‘'Look here, Mr. Lowery, them medical gentlemen says we 
had symptoms, and only differed as tu whether they was prussic 
acid, or strychnine, or arsenic ; and as you haven't got a diplo- 
my as I knows on,, I don't think you've any right to know 
more'n doctors." 

He alius stops jawin' then, fur he knows I'm right. But he 
won't own it ; men never won't 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


109 


NUMBER FOURTEEN. 

CHARITY VISITS THE HOPKINS BARKERS. 

Miss Scribbles to hum? Hain't, hey? Why, what a ever- 
lastin' fib ! I see her peekin' over the hand-rail. 

How de du, Partheny? Reckon you didn't expect to see me. 
Here's your gal sayin' you ain't tu hum. 

Land o' liberty ! what a time I've hed tu find ye. York folks 
is the greatest hands for never kncwin' nobody. I went intu the 
groceryman and axed him did he know a writerman by the name 
o' Scribbles. Hed a wife with red hair and a awful humbly face, 
and was kinder scraggy. Thought to be sure they'd know ye, 
seein' writin' is sech a poor business and you'd be apt tu owe 
'em suthin'. But they didn't. Shouldn't ha' got here as I 
knows of ef it hadn t a bin for ^his here good little boy. Give 
him tenpence for fetchin' me, Partheny ; I told him how't you 
would. I thought he must be yourn a^fust, on account o' his 
bustin' out tu the knees and elbers. 

Why should children be ragged? Why, ye needn't fire 
up so ! It's a awfui thing tu hev a bad temper. Ye know 
writin' folks like Mr. Scribbles don't never make no money. 


no 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Up tu Peekskill they've got a story round how't he don't do 
nuthin' but loaf, and you take in washin'. 

Instead o' that, Mr. Scribbles has a little property, and you 
keep plenty o' help, eh.!^ Wal, ye needn’t flare up, and stick up 
yer nose about that, 'cause it would be a heap more credit tu ye 
tu du yer own work. A married wimmen's place is in the kitch- 
ing. 

Wal, it's a good thing Mr. Scribbles hed a little property. 

'Twas a reg'lar blow tu me when I heerd who you was mar- 
ried tu. I allers sot a heap on you. 

Sez I, ‘‘Who's Partheny married, Miss Mankles?" 

Your ma perks up, and sez she : 

“A genus. Charity." 

“A who P" sez I. 

“A genus. One o' these here book writers," sez she. 

“Land o' Goshen !" sez I, “I'd a heap ruther hearn 'twas a 
chimbly sweep, 'cause he'd a earnt his breaktwist afore he swol- 
leredit." 

Yes, du take my bunnit and shawl, and don't put 'em down 
in the dirt and dust. I'm mighty keerful o' my things ; and if 
you kin get me a little o’ the l^st brandy, and some hot water 
and sugar, p'raps I sha'n't faint. 

What ails me.? Why, I've had the awfulest turn you ever 
knowed. It's a marsy I ain't a crowner's inquest at this identi- 
cal minute. I'm goin' tu write tu Jonathan tu see ef I can't 
hev the law of the Hopkins Barkers. Never was so ill-used be- 
fore. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Ill 


You see, she's one o' Betsy Jane Griffin's darters, and she was 
married a spell ago tu Hopkins Barker. 

Allers promised I'd go and see 'em, but didn't till last week. 
Then I packed up and started, and got there about dusk. 

She was overjoyed tu see me, but arter tea him and her had 
tu go out on account o’ a neighbor’s child dyin’, and they bein' 
expected tu come. 

Well, of course I was all alone in the house, for the gal was 
gone out, tu, and I hadn’t nothin' much tu amuse myself with, 
so I thought I'd see what she had. 

I ain’t one o' them people that's allers pryin' intu other folks' 
affairs. Them I abominate ; but I like naturally to know what 
folks hev. 

Fust off I looked intu her wardrobe closet and bureau draw- 
ers. 

She hain't had but one silk frock since she was married, that's 
sartin. But her underclothes is the heft of 'em worked. She's 
got a green merino, tu, that’s purty good, and a yaller brown 
delain jest made up. 

He was amazin' well off fer collars and cravats, and they've 
got no end o' gloves. 

I had every livin' thing out and looked at it, and still 'twern't 
seven o'clock. 

I didn't know what tu du with myself, and so when I had got 
through up there I went down tn see ef Hopkins Barker was a 
good provider, 


II2 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


How was I goin' tu find that out ? Why, by lookin' at the 
pantries. 

Wall, ril say fur him, fur a young man he does purty well. 
The jellies, and presarves, and pickles was interestiner than 
usual. Td got the jars counted, and was up on a barrel tu the 
further eend, a lookin' at some hams, when I hears a key in the 
front basement door, and I knowed some one was a cornin'. In 
a minute I see how 'twas the help. Now gals o' that kind is so 
narrer-minded she might a thought I was meddlin' with Miss 
Hopkins Barker's things, so sez I tu myself, ain't goin' tu , 
let her see me," and I blowedmy light out and stood flat agin 
the wall on the barrel. 'Twas easy tu du that, 'cause I hadn't 
got no hoops on, and was in my dimity wrapper and slippers, tu 
be comfortable. 

I expected the help would streak up stairs tu bed straight off, 
but, land o' liberty ! she didn't. She walks in, hollerin' to 
some one behind. 

‘‘Come in, Pat ; the missus and masther is both out for the 
avenin’, I 1 niw." 

And in v.alks a great Irishman, with a big stick under his 
arm. 

“May Saint Father kape 'em out," sez he, and then, true as 
my name is Charity Grinder, he put his arms around her waist 
and kissed her ! 

The idee o' a respectable help allowin' herself tu be kissed I 
But the hull world is goin' backwards intu wickedness, like 
Uncle Pratt’s wagon backed off intu the mill crick 1 When I 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


113 


was young no gal never allowed no feller tu kiss her — leastways 
none never durst attempt it tu me. Thinks me, ^ ' Jest you wait, 
that's all. You'll hear of this.'' 

But I tell you 'twas gettin' mighty cold in the kitching pantry. 
You see I'd took off my gownd and had on my nightgownd and 
a pair o' slippers. 'Twas a caution, the way I shivered. 

B.meby they got talkin' of her missus, and she told what a 
temper she had, and how she locked up things. 

“No such thing as a poor gal gettin' a bit o' cake for lunch," 
sezshe, “ without it's give out. But I wish ye'd been here, Pat, 
yestherday, for I laid the best half of a chicken to the cat, the 
while it was hid undher me bed, for a bit o' supper. There's 
nothin' for ye now but some cowld mutton." 

“That'll be wilcome," sez he, and she went down cellar and 
fetched it up. 

Then sez she, “I'll get ye a pickle," and into the pantry she 
walks. 

I stood flat against the wall, hopin' how't she wouldn't see me ; 
but, land o' liberty ! the next minute she looked u and gin a 
awful howl, and rushed out and banged the door. 

‘ ‘ What's the matther, honey sez the man. 

Sez she, “Och, there’s a ghost in it, tin feet high." 

I had my nightgownd on, and I hain't a doubt but what I did 
look ethereal. 'Tain't tu be wondered at the gal took me for a 
spook 

“A ghost, is it?" sez he, and open he pulls the door. 

“ Howly murther, it is !" sez he, anc} with that out he pulls ^ 


II4 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


pistol, and ef I live tu the age o' old Hale I sha'n't never forget 
my sensations. 

'"Don’t!" I hollered, "Tm Miss Charity Grinder!" 

Sez he, "It's spakin' to me ! Say a bit iv an ave tur me, 
Biddy darlint, or Tm lost !" and bang, bang, bang went the 
pistol. 

I yelled each time, but that didn't do no good. The more I 
screeched the more he shot his pistol ; and the more I said 
"Tm Miss Charity Grinder," the more he considered how 'twas 
a spook from t'other place addressin' him. 

I lifted up first one foot and then t’other, and I scrouched 
down, and I leaned over, and I couldn't budge one way nor 
t'other fur fear o' tumblin' off the barril ; and whenever I hear 
anybody braggin' like old Miss Scotchcake does, how’t their 
boys is "good shots," I'll tell'em they wouldn't be so glad if 
they'd ever been a target like me that night. The best thing 
pistols kin du, is not tu hit the mark. 

Well, the help, she'd run down to the grocery man's, and 
cum back with him and his big dog ; and he was just as Dutch 
as anybody ever I see — couldn't speak a word a Christian could 
understand ; and when he was told 'twas spooks, nat'rally . he 
thought that was American for robbers. Fust he said : 

"Oh, mien Got, so much droubles for Miss Barker." 

Then he sot his dog on in Dutch, and then he run for more 
help. 

The dog, he come clear down tu the eend o' the long pantry. 
It was a good long one, with a windy in it, as big as some places 


4 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 115 

York folks calls rooms, and there he jumped up ontu the barril 
with his fore paws, and barked and bit at my ankles. Wonder 
I didn't guv up the spook. I was near about skeered to death. 
He was barkin' and Biddy screamin', and Pat heatin' on the 
door with his stick, when in came a couple o' neighbors. 

One was a little short old man, and one a tall young 'un. 
You see, I could see out, 'cause the kitching was light, and they 
couldn't see in, 'cause the pantry store-closet was dark. 

Sez the old gentleman : 

How now — what's tl^ matter ?" 

‘Ht's a ghost!" sez Biddy. 

‘‘Tut, tut," sez the old gentleman. 

“Thrue for ye," sez Pat. ‘‘ I seen the face, and it's the divil, 
more betoken three shots went clane threw him widout hurtin' a 
hair." 

“Nonsense, nonsense," sez the young gentleman. “The 
devil don't hide in pantries. It's a housebreaker." 

“ Thin we'll all be murthered in our gory beds," sez Biddy, 
banging the door tight on me and the dog. 

The dog barked and I screamed. 

“Oh, lemme out I I'm the wretched victim o' a most drefful 
mistake 1 I'm Charity Grinder o' Peekskill." 

But they didn't hear me for the noise. 

Purty soon the young man peeks in. 

“The burgulars is a hidin' tu the further eend," sez L 
“ How many on 'em. Lawyer Trats?" sez the old gentleman. 
“Near as I can see, two," sez he. “Look yourself doctor. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


ii6 

Doctor he looks. 

‘‘I see four \” sez he. 

‘‘We can't cope with 'em/' says Lawyer Trats. “We must 
barrycade the door and send for a possy o' perlice. Fetch 'em, 
Bridget." 

And then I heerd 'em pilin' up the hitching table and refrig- 
erator, and cookin' stove and things agin the door. 

“Did you notice whether they was armed.?" sez the lawyer. 

“Yes," sez the lawyer. “I think I observed a double-bar- 
reled gun in one o' their hands. " 

Purty soon there was an awful trampin' that I reckoned was 
the possy a cornin', and sure enough I heerd the lawyer say 1 1 

“Doyer know you hain't done yer dooty in this here case, 
perlicemen ? Here's a citizen's home invaded by a gang o' bur- 
gulars, and none o' you on hand for a hour or more. It's a case 
o' deriflection from dooty." 

“ Nun o' yer sass, young man," sez one perlice. “Tend' to 
the subjec', for our time's precious. Where's the burglars ?" 

“ In the store-closet," sez the doctor. “ We've had a conflict', 
but succeeded in imprisonin' 'em. The dog is on guard inside. * 

“Yah, yah," sez the Dutchman. “Good tog." 

“How many on 'em air they," sez a perlice. 

“Three," sez Lawyer Trats. 

“ Four," sez the doctor. 

“So many ash den," sez the Dutcnman. 

“Form in ranks," sez the perlice. “Clubs out. Don't use 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


117 


yer weppins until the last minnit, but hev "em ready for imme- 
diate use/' 

I heerd every word, and I screeched and danced up and down 
on the barril, and in a minnit in went the head and me and my 
ruffled dimity nightgownd and the kerosene ile lamp intu as full 
a barril o' pickled pork as ever was put up. 

Murder !" sez L ‘‘ Bow-wow," sez the dog, and in marches 
the perlice, and out they drags me, drippin'. 

‘'It is a ghost," sez Biddy. " It's the divil," sez Pat. "Has 
nobody got a bit of a howly-bone or the like for a poor boy to 
howld on by. Sind for the praste. Sind for the sisthers. It's 
the divil himself in a nightcap." 

"This is a pretty thing tu call us out for^" sez a perlice. 
"This ain't nuthin' but petty larceny." 

"Probably the others has escaped," sez the doctor. 

"I ain't a petty larcenee," sez I. "lam Miss Grinder, from 
Peekskill, onto a visit tu York. Oh ! spare my money and take 
my life — I mean t'other way. Don't send me to the Tombs, nor 
Sing Sing. How'd ye like tu be hung yerself, beside being shot 
at and bit by a Dutch mad dog, and up tu yer neck in souse?" 

"Is she out of her mind?" sez the perlice. 

"Plainly," sez the doctor. 

"It’s all pretense to evade arrest," sez the lawyer. 

And as Biddy had never seen me, bein' gone out when I come, 
I dunno what might hev happened ef just then Mr. and Mrs. 
Hopkins Barker hadn’t come hum. They told who I be, of 
course, and reskied of me. The minnit the house was clear I 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


ii8 

went intu spasms, and kep’ 'em up as long as I could, and I 
sha’n't forgive the Baikers for the way they acted, and for her 
sayin' : 

‘ ‘ If you'd kept out o' other people's closets you wouldn't have 
got intu such a scrape." 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ I hope you don't expect me o' meddlin'. " 

‘ ‘ Only of prying, " sez she. 

‘^In that case," sez I, ‘‘I'll darken yer ruff no longer." 

“As you please," sez she. 

So as soon as I’d had my breaktwist next morning — that's this . 
•^I went. Me hevin' been in the barril, of course they couldn't 
use the pork, and they gin it away, charitable like, tu a poor 
Irish famerly. They didn't know about the kerosene lamp bein' 
at the bottom, and I forgot tu tell 'em. So jest as I started thd 
man they gin it tu brung th3 lamp round and was threatenin' tu 
hev the life o' Mr. Hopkins Barker for tryin' tu pison his child- 
ren. Dunno how it ended, for I didn't stay. 

Oh 1 Partheny, I fetched that dimity gownd along fur you tu 
du up fur me. And let's hev dinner, or lunch, or suthin' as 
soon as you kin, fur the excitement has made me faint. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


119 


NUMBER FIFTEEN. 

HOW CHARITY GRINDER ELOPES WITH COLONEL KATERMOUNT. 

I du think Miss Colonel Katermount was the jealousest critter 
ever I did see. She never let the colonel hev a minnit's peace 
o’ his life from the time she tuk his name down tu the last I seen 
of her ; and ’twarn’t as ef the man had been a gay Otheller, 
neither. He never done nothin' fur tu exasperate her ; and as 
fur admirin' o' wimmin, the one he hed was enough tu make 
him disgusted with the hull bilin’. 

She didn't think so, though. I du b'lieve she'd a got jealous 
of an old bunnit without no head in it, ef the colonel hed 
looked at it. He didn't durst speak tu a little gal o' fourteen 
nor a old woman o' seventy ; and in church, ef he looked off 
his book, she nudged him with her elber, and kept him awake 
all night a talkin' o' the imperpriety o' a married man starin' at 
the gals. As fur the fair sect, she did think they was all dyin' o' 
love fur Colonel Katermount. 

He was an awful humbly man, too. What he had left of his 
hair was red, and he'd hed the small- pox, and there was one big 
wart on his nose, and another onto his chin. Besides, poor 
man, he hed a wooden leg, and cross-^yed ; but, bless you, 


120 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. ^ 


ef he'd been Apolly hisself, she couldn’t a had a bigger idee o’ 
his powers o’ fascernation. 

I used ter oilers go tu tea tu Miss Colonel Katermount s when 
the colonel was out, ef I could, ’cause, ef you coughed or blow’d 
yer nose, she thought ’twas a secret signal, and ef you spoke tu 
him she got mad, and ef you didn’t she considered ’twas tu de- 
ceive her, and you talked all the more behind her back. 

She was pertickler jealous o’ me, ’cause when we was both 
young gals the colonel used to be quite intimate fu our house, 
and she knowed that, ef Td been a mind tu, I could ha’ been* 
Miss Colonel Katermount. 

‘‘Did he propose V* 

Well, not exactly. But I know he would ef I’d encouraged 
him. Didn’t though. Whenever I seed him cornin’ tu offer 
me his attentions, I used tu stick up my nose and prance away 
like a queen. 

Well, they’d been married twenty years or so, when we had a 
new minister over our church. The old one hevin’ evinced a 
dispersition to be a Universaller, went so fur as tu say he didn’t 
know but even old tipsy Jenkins, that w^as found dead to the 
tavern one night, might git tu heaven, and that ’twarn’t Chris- 
tian-like tu be sartin o’ the ultimate destination o’ nobody. Con- 
sequently, we hed another in his place, and in proper time we 
give him a donation party. 

Brother Jonathan and me was a goin’. He took a cheese, 
and I took a caliker dress patron fur the minister’s wife ; and 
bein’ ’twas quite a distance, we went intu the waggin. Lots o’ 


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121 


folks come in waggins that night, on account o' the things they 
brung along. 'Mong 'em w|ls Miss Colonel Katermount. They 
fetched a side o' bacon and a bushel o' turnips. Me and Jona- 
than and them got there fust, so we nat'rally fell tu talkin'. 

How air you all.^^" sez 1. Hain't seen ye fur an age." 

‘‘Well," sez she, “we're as well as kin be expected. Hev 
you heerd how't my married darter, Sophrony, has got a heir ?" 

“A what.^" sez 1. 

“A son and heir," sez she. “We're goin' over there tu- 
night. Thought we'd stop tu the party fust, and then ride out. 
It's a good piece, and we calkerlate tu stay a spell ; me, anyway, 
fur while Sophrony is shut up up stairs, ef there ain't nobody tu 
watch, like as not Mr. Butterbanks will go a kissin' the gal." 

“Du tell," sez I. “Well, you hain't much o' a opinion o’ 
the men sect, Miss Colonel Katermount." 

“Nobody o' a penetratin' mind has," sez she. “There's se- 
crets in my buzzim what nobody knows on. I ain't a goin' tu 
mention 'em ; but they're in my journal, and I've got a brother 
down in York that’ll publish 'em arter my decease. Then the 
world will larn about what wimmin has tu bear." 

“There's some men different from other some," sez I. 

“There may be," sez she. “But the heft o' them that's 
gifted with the snare o' beauty, like the colonel, is alike. " 

I didn’t make no remark when she said that, and I went tu 
talk tu the rest o' the folks I seed cornin' in. It was a pecooliar 
kind o' a church — there wasn't no sociabillitude, and on occa- 
sions like this here half o' the folks stared at the other half as ef 


122 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


they was afeard they'd bite. Elder Ninepin used to introduce 
folks, but they wouldn't stay introckiced. They'd put on their 
best things and go tu the church sociable, and things, and sit 
with their noses in the air until the minister would say, “Now 
we’ll close this here delightful evenin' with a hymn," and then 
he'd give one out, and nobody wouldn't sing only him, and then 
they'd hand the plate round and go. This here donation party 
was purty much like the rest, and when the hymn was sung, I 
went tu Jonathan, and sez I : 

“Du come along. I'm sleepy." 

Sez he, “I've got a word or two tu say tu Brother Ninepin; 
you go along down and get intu the waggin, and I'll come — it 
stands right o' the door, tied tu the fence." 

Well, seein' I was sleepy, I thought I would. So I bid the 
folks good-by, and went down and got intu the waggin, wrap- 
ped up so you couldn't see my nose, and before Jonathan got 
down I was a’most asleep. He warn't much o' a talker, so I 
warn’t surprised when he didn't make no remark, and we driv 
along a spell without speakin'. That made me sleepier, so I 
put my head agin the waggin cover and snored away in good 
earnest in less than five minutes. 

When I woke 'twas a snowin', and it seemed to me we'd been 
a good while on the road. I nudged Jonathan, and sez I 

“Ain't we most there?" 

And sez he, from under his comforter : 

“Not half." 

I never heerd his voice so gruff before. Sez I : 


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123 


You've took cold/' 
hain't," sez he, 

‘‘You hev," says L “ You're as hoarse as a raven. How it 
snows !" 

“Yes," sez he, “Shouldn't wonder ef I'd lost my way." 

“Should think you'd know it blindfold," sez I. “Beside, 
'tain't long enough to lose. " 

Sez he, “ It’s five mile." 

“ Hey.^^" sez I, thinkin' he'd gone crazy. 

“Five good," sez he; “and there's the fork. Ef I hev got 
off the track 'twas at the fork. I'll know purty soon now." 

“Why, Jonathan, hev you been drinkin'.^^” sez I, skeered out 
o' my senses. 

When I said Jonathan, he gave a start. 

“Land o' liberty!" sez he, “what are you callin' me Jona- 
than for.? Either I'm gettin' deaf,, or that ain't Miss Colonel Kat- 
ermount’s voice. 

“Of course it ain't," sez I. “And you ain't Jonathan Grin- 
der!" 

“I'm blest ef I am," sez he. “I'm Colonel Katermount." 

The hull horror o’ my sittywation rushed onto me with a bang, 
and sez I : 

“Oh, dredful suz! How have we got conglomerated.? I 
hain't no business tu be travellin' with a married man, much 
less at this here solemn hour o' midnight There ain't nuthin' 
can't be said agin me now. Oh ! drive back^ colonel, as you 
vally the opinion of serciety," 


124 


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‘‘Serciety !'" sez he. ‘‘I ain’t a thinkin’ o’ them, but o’ Miss 
Colonel Katermount. She's been bad enough when she hadn’t 
no reason ; what’ll she be when she has ?” 

‘‘’Tain’t too late for tu repair our errer,” sez L ‘‘Oh 1 drive 
back, du.” 

Sez he, “The difficulty is tu du it. Ef we’re in the right 
road, I kin. Ef we ain’t, how kin I ? Hows’ever I’ll try. ” 

So he turned the boss, and away we galloped, most pitchin^ 
me out, when we hit agin stones, and the snow was failin’, and 
it was pitch dark, and arter a while the old boss tumbled, and 
down he come. 

Colonel Katermount got out and tried to boost him, but it 
warn’t no use. 

“Here’s a awful state o’ things,” sez he. “Dunno more’n 
the man in the moon where we be. I’m goin’ down tu where I 
see a light, tu ask. Don’t you be skeered. Miss Grinder. ” 

When he’d said that he went away, and ’twas a quarter o’ an 
hour afore he came back. Then there was a man along o’ him, 
and he hed a lantern. 

“Hev you any notion where you be?” sez he. 

“No,” sez I. 

“Ten miles from Peekskill,” sez he. “It’s the wrong 
road, and ef you hed the old boss on his legs agin you couldn’t 
get back till mornih’. ” 

Then was heerd three awful groans. 

’Twas me expirin’. 

Well, they looked at the old boss, and he wa^ gin out — np 


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125 


makin’ him go ; and we couldn't walk ten miles, and there 
wasn't no stage that night, and all we could du was tu go tu the 
tavern. 

The lady that kep' it, when she heerd my story, gin me her 
sympathy, and fetched out some brandy and water, and was quite 
motherly; but nuthin' couldn't swage my woes nor the colonels. 
He sot with his head onto his hands, and every word she sed to 
comfort him he'd shake it, and say : 

‘‘Much obleeged, mum, but you don't know my wife. Ef 
you had the pleasure o' Miss Colonel Kate rmount's acquaintance 
you'd understand my feelin's." 

And as fur me, I shouldn't hev expected nobody tu think 
nuthin' o' my moral rectitude ef I hadn't gone intu the very 
worst o' highstrikes, and kep' intu 'em all night. 

Next mornin', lo and behold ! the snow was deeper than it 
hed been for ten years afore, and the boss warn't able to budge, 
and the stage warn't goin' tu run, even as fur as the railway, un- 
til the next day, and there warn't no vehicle tu be hed. Colonel 
Katermount tried to walk it, and got half froze, and we was in 
despair. 

The landlady wept with me the belt o' the day, and- the colonel 
he tried to drown his sorrers in ale. It got intu his head, and 
they had tu put him tu bed at three in the arternoon. It did 
seem tu me I should go crazy. That night I didn't sleep none, 
and when the stage come I was ready, and so was the colonel. 
The landlady was goin' along, at our request, tu explain things, 
and thQ colonel was goin' tu pay her for goin', I sobbed so all 


126 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


the way hum that everybody in the stage asked what that inter- 
estin' lady was a weepin' fur. 

The stage run clear tu Peekskill, and when we got out the 
fust person we met was a newsboy, a sell in' the Peekskill Patriot, 
He come up to the colonel, and sez he : 

‘‘Hev a paper, sir? Interesting elopement in religious cir- 
cles — awful disclosures concernin' a prominent gentleman." 

The colonel he turned white as he could, and sez he: 

'Til take a paper, boy," and he paid him and took it. 

Land o' Goshen ! the fust thing was headed with them words, 
the boy had spoke, and when he read it out I thought I should 
feint. 

"Awful disclosures concerning a distinguished gentleman and 
a lady hitherto considered a model o' exemplary conduct." 

Then it went on tu tell how’t we was at a delightful party to- 
gether, and in the midst o' the evenin’ he contrived to evade the 
observation o' his pardner and elope. 

It described the anguish o' Miss Colonel Katermount, and 
spoke o' us in dreadful terms. 

I swooned the moment the colonel hed got through readin' 
on't. But I got over it immediate, because 'twas necessary to go 
to our places o’ residence as soon as possible. 

Folks was gettin’ up, and the heft on 'em stared at us as it 
we’d been ghosts. 

When we come to the colonel’s house there was a red flag at 
the door, and a man standing on the stoop. He was a stranger, 
and the colonel walks up tu him, and sez he ; 


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127 


“ Hullo, sir, who be you 

Sez he, You'd better be civil." 

Sez the colonel, ' ' I am. " 

“Oh !" sez he, “in that case I don't mind tellin^ you I'm 
Mr. Higgs, come down to auction off the desirable furniture o' 
this here family mansion. The things is all good, and we're 
sellin' 'em for the benefit o' a deserted wife that's been abandoned 
by her spouse, and is goin' home to her parents. " 

“Hey?" sez the colonel, “you air, air you?" 

And he squares off and hits the auctioneer in his waistcoat, 
and he hollers, and out comes Miss Colonel Katermounfs bro- 
ther and flies at the colonel, and out comes Miss Colonel Kater- 
mount herself and flies at me, and had me in ribbons in a min- 
nit ; and I hollered and she screeched, and we kept at it until 
we both swooned. 

The poor landlady told me arterward how^t she never had such 
a time before as she had then explainin' matters, and arter every- 
body else believed her. Miss Colonel Katermount wouldn't. 

All she'd say, pintin' at me in a state o' bunnit that you'd a 
thought 'ud a moved the heart o' any o' the female sect, was ; 

“I'll tear her eyes out!" 

And the only wonder is she didn't. 

Me and she never spoke arterward. And fust place Colonel 
Katermount sued the paper for a libel, and then the auctioneer 
he sued him for 'salt and battery. And I often sit and reflect 
how onsartain life is, and how much was brought about by me 
gettin' into the wrong waggin. 


128 


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% 


NUMBER SIXTEEN. 

CHARITY GOES H O U S E - H U N T I N G . 

/ 

Jemmimy Brisket and me ain't no relation. IVe heered some 
o' these Yorkers has said how't Charity Grinder was endeavorin 
to establish relationships where none didn't exist. So I state 
plainly how't she and me ain't none. Her pa was my mother's 
brother, and they quarreled, and didn't hev nuthin' tu say tu 
each other. However, she and me was allers intimate, and I 
went tu see her as soon as ever I could find her direction. 

She was in a peck o' troubles, and the first words she said 
were these : 

^‘Oh, Charity, Charity, I du expect tu be homeless. There 
ain't nobody will take us in. " 

^‘Why, what's the matter?" soz I. 

Sez she, We've gin up our house and it's let over our heads, 
and there ain't none tu be had.* We can't afford a nine-story 
residence, with brown stone fronts and floors ; they won't let to 
them that has children, and there ain't no small houses, and 
we've got tu set in the streets. I spend the heft o' the time in 
the street, and the gal explodes the kerosene lamp and tumbles 
down stairs with the baby, and the b'g children sets fire tu the 


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129 


house, and Araminty has the young man I disapprove of callin' 
on her; and Washington Jefferson smokes cigars every time I 
go out, and Mr. Brisket, he hain't time to go." 

‘‘Lawful suz !" sez I, “what did ye think o' movin' fur?" 

Sez she, “Why, Mr. Brisket don't only get nine hundred a 
year, and this here home is riz tu a thousand. Of course, if we 
was tu live here, we couldn't calkerlate tu pay the rent at all. " 

‘ ‘ Well, " sez I, ‘ ‘ York folks is all gone crazy together, I reck- 
on. Tell you what I’ll du. I'll go a house-huntin' for ye. I'll 
jest hev my things fetched here, and it won't be no trouble. I 
like tu see how folks lives. " 

So that’s the way I come tu be a house-huntin'. 

m 

“How many rooms did you say you had tu let, mum?" 

“Second floor and back basement." 

“Oh, well, I’d like tu see 'em." 

“ Can’t until ten." 

“Oh, pshaw 1 I’ve heerd jest how I'd be treated, but I ain't 
tu be put off. Excuse me fur goin' up fust. Land o' Liberty 1 
ye needn’t look so mad. Is this the parlor ? 'Tis, hey ? Well, 
I've seen dirty paint, but never the equal o' this here ? Don't 
you never scrub it? Well, I reckon 'twill come clean, so that 
don't make no difference. The paper ain't so bad. Whose 
portrait is that? Your'n? Du tell. Why, I should a' thought 
some good-lookin' woman sot for it. It’s got real good clothes 
on tu, but I suppose you've got them fur best. If 'tain’t a im- 
pertinent question, where clu you keep clothes in this place? I 


130 


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don’t see no closets. Be these bedrooms ? Why, they hain't no 
windys. Not a morsel o' air, and ye can't get around the bed 
tu make it. That is a new patron patch-quilt, ain't it ? Seems 
tu me I never seen it before. I'll jest look at it, so's tu get the 
patron. Du you know them pillercases ain’t felled? You 
thought I wanted tu see the house, and not the bed things ? So 
I du. This is the dining-room, hey? Well, ef 'twas furnished 
up nice, it might look better. Though, after all, it’s kinder 
skewjawed. I'd like tu see the closet. It's only shelves, hey ? 
Well, a body wants tu see before they hire, shelves or not. Now 
for the kitchen. Can't I wait until to-morrow ? Oh, laws a 
mussy, no ! How d'ye know any on us will ever see to-morrow. 
'Tain't a Christian duty to procrastinationate. That your little 
boy? He's awful thick-complected. You'd orter give him 
suthin' for his blood. 

‘‘Wall, ef you call this a kitchen, why. I've got a spice-box 
full as big tu Peekskill. Hain't been whitewashed for a spell, I 
reckon. 

“Clean it up, and it’s better, I suppose. You mustn’t be of- 
fended by my plain remarks. You see I allers come out jest as 
I feel, up and down. 

“A bad habit? Why, land o' liberty! it's considered the 
amiablest treat o' my character up tu hum. Fact is, where the 
truth ain't pleasant, folks doesn't like tu hear on't, nat'rally. 

“Jest makin' tea, ain't you ? Well, as I’m up so early. I'll 
jest take a cup, and don't trouble yourself for me. Slice o' that 
cake in the closet is plenty. How on arth du you come to 


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131 

breaktwist so late ? Husband was out last night, and ain't up, 
I suppose? He don't drink nur nuthin', does he? Sartinly 
not ! Lawful suz ! you needn't perk up so — the heft o' the men 
sect dues. That's the reason I hain't never united myself in the 
bounds o' wedded bliss. Didn't calkerlate 'twas pleasant to hev 
nobody cornin' in whenever they was disposed, and mebbe goin' 
tu bed with ther boots on. Kurnel Jingle used to hev his spurs, 
tu, but he was a millingtary ossifer, and them is wuss than most 
o' the men sect as fur as mortals goes. Put another pinch o' 
tea in, fur I don't like weak slops, and I'll take another cup, 
since you're so pressing. 

‘‘Any more rooms? Kitching, dining-room, parlor, bed- 
rooms, ef you call 'em so — I should say rat-holes. What’s this 
here? It belongs tu the apartments, but I'd better not go in ? 
Why not? 

“You wouldn't advise me tu? Why, land o' liberty 1 I 
mean tu see the hull before I go. Door kinder sticks, hey? 
There it goes 

“Oh! — ah! — ooh ! — my! — ^gracious goodness! Tnere's a 
indelicate man in there a bathin' hisself. ‘ 

“Oh! ah ! What doin's ! You told me. not to go in, be- 
cause Mr. Brown was performing his toilet. Land o' liberty ! 
why didn't you say so? I sha'n't get over this here in a hurry. 
Ain't you got a glass o' wine nor nuthin' tu resusitate my spirits ? 
Fetch a fan, du. 

“Well, I did think better o' yer delicacy. You'd orter be 


132 


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ashamed o' ycrself ! It seems tu me you might blush instead o' 
grinnin’. 

‘‘How soon du you calkerlate tu move? Not till fust o' 
May. Du I suppose I’ll take the house? Why, I’m huntin’ 
tur a friend, and of course 'twon't suit her. Eleven in fammer- 
ly, besides it’s tu dirty— she’s used to a nice place. And then, 
didn’t I tell ye she'd made up her mind tu go to Brooklyn, 
found the place, and signed papers and all. I jest thought I'd 
see what some more houses was like before I stopped. You 
wonder at my impudence, hey? Law, du you? I'd hev you tu 
know that I wonder at yourn ; but them that’s dirty is ginerally 
sassy, and I don't expect much o' Yorkers, anyhow ! Good- 
mornin'. I was oilers fetched up to remember good manners, 
ef you wasn’t. My mar was a lady, and my Aunt Tibbs a mem- 
ber o' the fust serciety. I ain’t used to associatin' with no low 
people, and as for the abuse o' such a nasty, ineddicated critter 
as you. I’d answer it back, only I won't so abase myself. Good 
mornin'. " 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


133 


NUMBER SEVENTEEN. 

CHARITY DISCOVERS A SECRET. 

I never did think much o' Pamela Pondicherry — never. When 
she was a gal, by the name o' Pamela Tid, she was always kinder 
hity-tity— tu fixy tu suit me. I warn’t never took in by her as 
some was. '‘Handsome is as handsome does," sez I ; jest wait 
and see. And I did wait, and I and the rest o' us seen. 

Can't say she ever let the cloven foot peek out very plain while 
she was a gal, but she winded up by elopin' with Packenham 
Pondicherry. Afore her folks caught up with 'em, they was 
united in bonds o' matermony by the Rev. Silas Speers. 

That warn't, tu my way o' thinkin', a very creditable way of 
steppin' off. But 'twas done, and they couldn’t du nuthin' tu 
prevent it, so they jest sot and took it. Old Mr. Tid said how’t 
he'd disown Pamely ; but seein' he didn't hev nuthin' tu speak 
on, only a house with a mortgage ontu it about three times its 
vally (couldn't ha' bin? Why, I know it on the first authority), 
and an old boss, that was blind o' an eye, and lame o' a leg, and 
there was three sons tu divide amongst arter Miss Tid, his pard- 
ner, had had her thirds. Pamely didn't lose much. 

Mr. Pondicherry is intu the customus now. He was a kind 


134 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


o' a clerk, or suthin' there. 'Twarn’t considered much o’ a 
match ; but he has dim up amazin’ — scum rises, you know. 
’Twas said how’t old Miss Pondicherry went out washin’. 

Well, arter I’d been tu York a spell, Maria sez tu me : 

“Seen anythin’ o’ Pamely sence you come.?^” 

“ No, ” sez I, I hain’t. ” 

Sez she, ' ' They’re livin’ in fust-rate style. He’s in the cus- 
tomus, and the daughters is highly accomplished. You’d orter 
go and see ’em.” 

‘ ' Reckon I will, ” sez I. So I took the direction, and went 
up there, with some things in a portmantle, the next day. 

“Why, land o’ liberty!” sez she, when she sot eyes on me; 
‘ ‘ ’tain’t you 

“’Tis,” sez 1. “But how awful fat you be, Pamely. Is it 
dropsy, or du you hev your helth ?” 

Sez she, “I’m very well, thank you ; and I’m not considered 
fat by my friends — a little on bong pwan. ” (That’s what she 
said; what she meant, I dunno.) “A little on bong pwan is 
considered becoming.” 

“ So it is, ” sez I ; for I reckoned ’twas some highfalutin word, 
and I warn’t a-goin’ tu giv in tu Pamely Pondicherry. ' ' And 
how’s Packenham ?” 

“ He’s purty well,” sez she. “Attention tu business ruther 
wears onto him ; but he’s purty well. ” 

“Glad tu hear it,” sez I. “And I du suppose the young uns 
is purty well growed up. ” 


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135 


Sez she, ‘‘They're all tu boardin'-school — won't you take off 
your things ?" 

“Of course I will," sez I. “Fve come tu stay a week." 

She didn't speak as perlite as she'd orter, I thought, when I 
said that ; but, lor, if she hadn't no manners 'twarn't my fault. 

She sent the gal to show me a spare bedroom, and had lunch 
at wonst — a purty respectable kind o' a lunch, tu. Land o' 
liberty ! the airs she took tu — 'twould a made any one larf that 
could a seen her and remembered Pamely Tid, with her sleeves 
rolled up, whitewashin' the kitchen — a nigger behind her cheer, 
and pink wash-hand glasses fur tu dip yer fingers in. I took a 
drink before I knowed what they was. 

Well, there hain't much to tell about the fust few days. We 
had our reg'lar meals, and went tu bed and got up. The things 
I'm now about to depicter occurred, or begun for tu occur, a 
Thursday. That night him and her went tu a ball — they might 
a took me, but they didn't offer tu, so I staid tu hum. She 
asked me ^here I'd prefer for tu set, and I said in my own room. 
So I had a fire there, and made myself comfortable. 

My objeck in settin' there was tu be handy tu her room. 
There was suthin' there I'd made up my mind tu investigate for 
the sake o' maintainin' them there rules o' moral rectitude which 
air necessar}^ for the well-bein' o' serciety. I warn't inquisitorial 
— I'd scorn it — but I did desire tu know what on airth Pamely 
Packenham had intu her desk. 

I allers knowed she was kinder hity-tity, and I Lit sure she 
had a secret; and there was suthin' in the way she locked up 


136 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


that desk that excited my suspicions. Td read enough o' fash 
ionablc sercicty tu know how holler it was, and I made up my 
mind that if Pamely was a cariyin' on, Pd expose her. What 
she could hev in the desk I didn’t know, but I had a presenti- 
ment how’t I should diskiver it. 

I waited until the heft o' the help was abed, and then I jest 
went intu Pamely 's room — 'twasnext tu mine — ana got her keys 
— I knowed where they was kept — and opened that there desk. 
T was a leetle one, and* inside there was a lot o' writir/ paper, 
and a gold pen, and a ink bottle, shape o' a cullua purson (you 
took off his head and there was the ink), and there was a pen- 
wiper, and a lot o' stamps and enveloyps. Nuthin'' for tu satisfy 
my suspections in all them ; but behind there was a lot o' pigin' 
holes full o’ letters. Now ef a woman or a gal goes tu carryin’ 
on, you may be sure you'll find there's letters mixed up with the 
preceedins somehow. 

So I fetched them letters intu my room, and sot down tu read 
'em. Fust ofi* there v/as some from her ma, and her brother 
Zeke. Next there was bills and things, and some invites tu par- 
ties. And then there was a rubbish o' letters, mixed up pro- 
miscus, from this and that and 'tuther, not a word wuth readin 
in the hull bilin'. I began tu think Miss Pamely Pondicherry 
was tu deep for me arter all. 

And jest as I began tu think so I come across a bundle o' let- 
ters tied up with blue ribbon, and when I opened them — land o' 
liberty ! ef they warn’t love letters. Every one on 'em love let- 
ters o' the most pertickler kind, and begun, “My ever dear 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


137 


Pamely/’ or ^'My angel/’ or '^Sweetest/’ or suthin’ o’ the 
sort. She must a answered the hull o’ ’em, tu. They warn't 
signed reg’lar — the villain was tu deep for that — and the cnve- 
loyps was torn ; but I knowed ’twas Pamely Pondicherry they 
was writ tu, and I knowed now what kind o’ critter she must be. 

Sez I to myselt, ''Charity Grinder, what is your duty tu du 
in this here?” 

And sez I, in answer, "You should feel tu be thankful how't 
it’s been throwed in your way tu accidentally diskiver iniquity, 
and you should tell Mr. Pondicherry how’t he’s been nourishin’ 
a viper intu his buzzum tu the fust opportunity.” 

Sez I, "Izf;///.” 

And I put the rest o’ the letters back, and locked the desk, 
and put the others under my piller, and slept the sleep o’ con- 
scious respectability. 

Next mornin’ I was up airly, washed and combed, and cleaned 
my teeth before the clock struck six. Then I went down, and 
sot in the parlor until I heerd Mr. Pondicherry cornin’ past. He 
allers took his breaktwist before anybody else, so’s tu be olf in 
season. She was a reg’lar sleepy head — never ris till nine. 

When I heerd him, I steps out, and sez I : 

"Mr. Pondicheriy, I’d like tu hev a few minutes o’ private 
conversation with you.” 

Sez he, "Sartainly, Miss Grinder.” 

And in ha comes, and I shuts the door, and sez I : 

" It’s my painful duty for tu reveal a very afdictin’ circum- 


138 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Stance. Tain’t agreeable tu my feelings for tu do so, but the 
cause of respectabilitude demands it. '' 

‘‘ Ah,’' sez he ; ‘'suthin’ regardin’ a servant?” 

‘"No,” sez 1. ‘'It’s closer hum, Mr. Pondicherry. It's in 
relation tu the pardner o’ your buzzum.” 

“To who?” sez he. 

“To Miss Pamela Pondicherry,” sez I. 

“Gracious goodness !” sez he. 

Sez I, “I feel tu sympathize with you, sir. ” 

“Goon,” sez he. “Goon.” 

Sez I, “ It’s a painful duty, but I will Circumstances, what 
I hadn’t no control over, has accidentally throwed me in the 
way o’ diskiverin’ how’t Miss Pondicherry has got a beau, and 
bein’ a married woman — I blush tu speak on’t.” 

“A beau!” sez he. “Oh, your mistaken — quite mistaken. 
She allows no one ” 

Sez I, “I hev the proofs. She’s been tu the theayter with 
him ; she’s met him o’ a moonlight night, by appointment, and 
she’s goin’ tu elope with him a Thursday next. She calls you a 
tyrant, and sez how’t she ain’t a-goin’ tu put up with it no lon- 
ger ; and she calls him her dear, and her lover, because he re- 
peats them sentiments out o’ her letters in his’n. ” 

When I said that, Mr. Pondicherry begun tu stamp and clinch 
his fists, and sez he : 

“Who is the rascal? Who is he? Tell me his name 1” 

“I dunno that,” sez I; “but these here is his letters, and 
perhaps you can diskiver for yourself.” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


139 


He snatched them from me tu wonst, and sez he : 

“Who could hev suspected it? False as fair, woman, thy 
name is treachery. '' 

And he tore at his hair, and stamped, and flung himself on 
the sofy, and groaned. By and by he riz up, and sez he : 

“You see before you a broken-hearted wretch. Miss Grinder. 
Words can't tell how I hev adored that woman. '' 

Sez I, “ I feel tu be sorry fur ye. " 

“You can't understand my feelings," sez he. “Nobody 
could. But I will not act until I am calmer. I will wait until 
to-night before I — ah ! — oh ! 

And he kinder howled, and rushed out o’ the house. 

I kept my eyes on Miss Pondicherry all day, I tell ye. And 
whenever she took tu airs, I sez tu myself, “There's a rod in 
pickle for you, my dear. You won't hold yer head so high to- 
morrow." And 'twas amusin' tu see how she tossed her head, 
and turned up her nose, when you knowed what she actually 
was. Tell ye, I was actually tickled when I heerd the door open 
that night, and seen Mr. Pondicherry. 

He walked in, the color o' a spook, and he shets the door and 
locks it, and sez he, lookin' at his wife : 

“Oh, Pamely! Pamely ! Oh!" 

Sez she, “Oh, mercy 1 What is the matter, my dear?" 

Sez he, “ Don't be a hypocrite, Pamely." 

“No, don't," sez I. 

‘ ‘ Law 1" sez she, ‘ ‘ what has happened ?" 

Sez he, “The wreck of all my earthly hopes." 


140 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


“You ain’t failed?’’ sez she. 

He walks up tu her, and sez he ; 

“ Fiend ! Traitoress I Sarpent 1” 

“Well,” sez she, “hev you gone mad?’' 

Sez he, “I hev discovered your treachery. Tell me his 
name. ” 

“Who’s namel” sez she. 

“The writer o’ these letters,” sez he. 

She put on the biggest heap o' astonishment, and sez she : 

“Let me see them.” 

“No,” sez he. “I shall keep ’em for proofs. I shall hev a 
divorce, ma’am. I hev your love letters here, ma’am — ^your 
love letters. ” 

' ‘ It’s news to me, ef I’ve got any, ” sez she, cool as a cucum- 
ber. ‘ ‘ Where did you find ’em ?” 

“I owe the diskivery tu Miss Grinder,” sez he. 

“And where did you get them ?” sez she. 

“Out o’ your desk,” sez I. “I seen you when you leetle 
thought o’ bein’ observed ; and I calkerlate to put down sich 
carryins on wherever I diskiver ’em. You’re a disgrace tu the 
wummen sect,” sez I. 

“Ah !” sez she. “Well, I missed some letters, and ef you’ll 
be kind enough to read ’em out. I’ll tell you who writ ’em. ” 

Sez he, “Your audacity beat®' everything, woman. Listen, 
then, viper : 

“'Dearest Pamela — I have but a moment to spare; but I 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


141 

seize upon it to send these few lines on the wings of love, per 
boy, to you. 

‘To-night the tyrant, whose heart could never have been 
young, will be absent, I am informed. Meet me, then, beneath 
the rays of the moon, and ramble for a brief but blissful hour 
with him who adores you.'"' 

“ What do you say to that, ma'am V* sez I. 

She shrugged her shoulders, and he went on. 

“Here is another ; 

“‘Lovey, can you elude the vigilance of you know who, 
and go with me to see the Lady of Lyons, to-night } One more 
hour in your presence I must have. I long to feel your hand 
upon my arm — to look into your eyes. I kiss the paper twice, 
thrice ; but the boy, our confidential messenger, is waiting. 
Adieu.'" 

“How du ye feel now, you disgrace tu respectabilitude ?" sez 
I. “You won't stick your nose up quite so high again I reck- 
on." 

She tossed her head and laughed, as brazen as you please, 

“Next comes this awful disclosure," sez he. 

“ ‘Sweetest angel — all is prepared for our flight. On Thurs- 
day night the cab will be in waiting. Oh, bliss to call you mine I 
Oh, rapture ! — my soul ! — my seraph ! be in time, and guard 
against detection. Your devoted lives in an agony of suspense 
until he clasps you to his bosom 1' 

‘ ‘ There are more of 'em, " sez Mr. Pondicherry, ‘ ' but I shall 
read no more. The name, unhappy woman, the name ?" 


142 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Miss Pondicherry got up and shrugged her shoulders, and sez 
she : 

“Well, I should hev thought you^d hev known who 'twas by 
this time. Look at the date, and you’ll find that it’s 1858 ; and 
maybe you’ll remember your own old love letters. Vou wrote 
every one of ’em yourself. ” 

Mr. Pondicherry stared, and opened his mouth, and looked 
at the tops o’ the letters, and then he pitched ’em on the floor, 
and rushed across the room, and begun, straight before me, to 
hug and kiss Miss Pondicherry. 

Sez he, “Forgive me !” 

Sez she, “You old goose, you don’t deserve it, but I will.” 

Then he comes across tu me. 

* ‘ Where shall I tell the carriage tu drive tu ?” sez he. 

“What carriage.?” sez I. 

“Mine,” sez he. “I shall order it tu take you home ; and 
I beg you will never enter my doors agin. ” 

“Marsy sakes !” sez I. “Is this the way you treat me fur 
duin’ you a service.? You’d orter be grateful to me; and, 
what’s more, if I ain’t found nuthin’ out about Miss Pondi- 
cherry, that ain’t tu say there isn’t nuthin’ ” 

He rings the bell, and sez he : 

‘.^.Thomas, the carriage fur Miss Grinder.” 

And I despised him tu much tu say nuthin’. 

So here I am, Amandy. How’s yer pa ? Purty chirk ? 
tu see it I always was a favorite o’ his’n. 


Glad 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


143 


NUMBER EIGHTEEN. 

CHARITY SAVES JONATHAN FROM A DESIGNING WIDOW. 

How are ye, Miss Dusenbury? Purty spry? Wall, consider- 
in' ye always was kinder scrawny you du seem tolerable. How 
am I ? Well, Tm jest able tu crawl. . My nerves is so shook. 
You know I said Td be here last week, and what dye 'spose 
kept me ? Tve been back tu Peekskill tu. save my brother Jona- 
than from a designin' widder. Who do I mean ? You didn't 
never know Miss Moriarty, did ye? Used tu be Carline Lump- 
kins. Warn't married very young, and hadn't old Moriarty 
come she couldn't get nobody else. He had some money, but 
she never had a decent gownd tu her back 'till she'd jawed and 
bothered him out of the world ; but when that was done she 
spent the heft o' what was left in bugles, and sot her cap for an- 
other. 

What du I mean ? Why, land o' Caanan, Miss Dusenbury, 
hain't you nevervseen that kind o' mournin'? Looks as ef the 
individual that wears it was first dipped in gum, and then poked 
intu a bag o' bugles. There warn't an inch o' Miss Moriarty 
that hadn't a bunch o' 'em stuck on somehow. 

Commin' up the road o' Sundays she shined considerable 


144 


THE GRIiVd'ER papers. 


morc’n the tin peddler. As fur widders' caps, don^t never men- 
tion ’em in my bearin’ agin, Miss Dusenbury, arter what I’ve 
seen. 

Miss Dusenbury, ef you know any reason why a fat critter o’ 
forty, with red hair and freckles, and eyes the color o’ milk and 
water, should think herself handsome, jest mention it. Sure as 
I’m a livin’ sinner ihat critter did. So did our Jonathan. Never 
was so beat out as I was when he said so one day. He was a 
lookin’ out o’ the windy with his chin ontu his hands, and his 
eyes cast up tu the moon, and I’d said twicet, ‘^Time tu retire, 
Jonathan,” afore he spoke. 

Then sez he, kinder sleepy like : 

was a thinkin’ which was the good-lookinest female person 
tu Peekskill. 

‘‘Land o’ Goshen,” sez I, “ tu my mind ther ain’t much 
choice. Who’ve you decided ontu.^” 

“Miss Moriarty,” sez he. 

“Hey?” sez I. 

“Yes,” sez he, “by a bushel full.” 

“Du tell,” sez I. “Why, she’s middlin’ aged/ 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ P’raps she ain’t so young as some, but then she’s 
got more dignitude, and she’s fatter, and when she’s drest in her 
go-tu-meetin’s, she shines most.” 

“Shines?” sez I. “Why, I could shine tu ef I wore bugles.” 

“Bugles or not, it’s what I call queenly,” sez he. 

Arter that I didn’t say nuthin , but I jest shut the windy, and 
shut him up, and packed him off tu bed. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


U5 

There warn't nuthin' more said between us, but the next week 
you may judge o' my emotions when I heerd how't the widdy 
was goin’ tu hire old Koster s place. Twas the next tu Jona- 
than’s, and I knowed then, jest as well as I know now, that her 
only object was to be where she could set her cap at him. 

Sez I, tu myself, ‘'Its well fur that misguided man that 
she's got a sister fur tu purtect him. Ef he was all alone, with- 
out nobody of the wimmen sect tu keep an eye ontu her, she'd 
hev him in a month ; fur men is weak-minded critters. Miss 
Dusenbury and them designin' members o' the sect can come 
round 'em in the most surprisin' manner ; and the older they be 
the softer they be, seems tu me, like mush-melons." * 

Well, of course, the minnit Miss Moriarty come down she 
run over tu see me, and said how't we, bein' such near neigh- 
bors, must be sociable, and how't me and my brother must 
come in often. 

“Thank ye," sez I, “I'll come ; but Jonathan ain't no great 
o' a visitor, 'tain’t likely I could persuade him. " 

She tried tu grin, but I could see she was awful discomfisca- 
ted. 

The next day she sent over tu know whether Mr. Grinder, ef 
he was goin’ tu market, wouldn’t jest drive her tu town. 

I knowed he'd jump tu du it, but I took keer not tu tell him, 
and sent back by the gal, Mr. Grinder wasn’t a goin, but how't 
Miss Charity would stop fur her in the gig when she went down. 

Bless you, when I got there the critter had a dretful spell o' 


146 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


newralogy intu her head and couldn’t go. I knowed she 
wouldn’t. 

Purty soon she screeched that thar was a snake in her garding, 
and, ‘‘Oh, du cum and save me, Mr. Grinder.” 

And Jonathan he went then. Thar warn’t no stoppin’ him. 
But I pitched on my shaker and went tu. Thar was a moderate 
size o’ an earth worm on the path, and I’ll bet ten cents she’d 
digged that up a purpose. 

Sez she, “Oh, is it pisonous ? Oh ! oh !” 

Sez Jonathan, “No mum, don’t be alarmed,” and smashes' it 
with his bute heel. 

“Oh!” sez she, “you’ve saved my life!” and faints away, 
and he cotches her. 

Up marches me at that, and takes her in my arms, and sez I : 

“Now you clear out, Jonathan,” sez I. “’Twould be on- 
proper fur you fur tu stay ; I’ve got to unhook her. ” 

She comes tu at that, and sez she : 

“Oh, don’t go, Mr. Grinder! I’m better.” 

Sez I, “She hain’t, Jonathan; you go.” 

And he scooted. 

’Twarn’t often Miss Moriarty had had a person o’ my detarmb 
nation o’ mind tu deal with, and she turned acterly green, she 
was so mad. 

“Fetch some feathers fur tu burn,^^ sez I, “and come and 
slap her hands, Betsey Jane,” that was the help. 

But Miss Moriarty she sots up, and sez she : 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


147 


''No matter, thank ye. Tm better. Sorry tu hev troubled 

ye." 

Sez I, "I perceive thars a wonderful improvement. Good- 
morninV' sez I. 

Sez she, "Du sot longer. 

"No,*' sez I, "obliged tu ye. My brother don’t approve o' 
wimmin gadding. So I endeavor tu be intu my own hum as 
much as possible." 

She bows and grins, and away I goes, and Jonathan was a set- 
tin' ontu our porch a waitin' fur me. 

Sez he, ' ' Is she better ?" 

Sez I, "She warn^t never nun the wuss, so you needn't fid- 
get." 

And he shet his head. 

Arter that the widder let us alone ; and when I come away 
she hadn't spoke tu him fur a month. Didn't expect she would, 
fur she was makin' her best endivors fur tu ket.ch Capting Crump, 
o' the tavern. And even widdys can't marry .two tu the same 
time without being subpoenaed fur burglary. 

Well, I'd been in York quite a spell, when one day there 
came a letter tu me, directed "in haste;" and when I opened 
it, 'twas from our help, Eveliny Buckstaver, and the contents 
was sich that I acterelly thought I'd keel over : 

" r take up my pen in hand," says the faithful critter, "fur 
tu have the pleasure of apprising you how't she's cotch't him at 
last. Oh, why did you leave him. Miss Charity ? fur what's only 
a help, when it comes to widders, and she says, when you say 


148 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


he's out, 'No matter, I'll wait.' They're tu be married a Mom 
day next, fur he proposed the question tu her in our own back 
parlor — I had my eye tu the keyhole — ^and she sez, sez shg, 
'Yes,' sez she ; 'fur,' sez she, 'my feelin's is o' that reciprocal 
natur that I can’t say no. But,' sez she, 'whut,' sez she, 'will 
your sister. Miss Charity, say?' sez she. 'Oh,' sez he — them's 
the actual words, miss — 'Oh,' sez he, 'who in thunder keers 
what she sez ?' sez he. Then he kissed her ; and fur the love o' 
goodness gracious sakes alive, come home immediate, fur, true 
as you live, she'll hev him Monday ef you don't. Yours, with 
the greatest of respects, Eveliny Buckstaver, 

"P. S. — Hurry, and oblige E. B." 

That night I was up tu Peekskill. 

When I got hum, land o' liberty ! ef the front door warn't 
painted green and the hall wall papered, and true as you live, 
the parlor was fixed up with a new carpet, and there was teu new 
gilt vases on the mantletry. 

I gin one look and marched up stairs, and there was Jonathan 
jest puttin’ a new suit o' clothes — white pants and vest — intu his 
bureau. 

He shook all over when I looked at him and sot down. 

Sez I, ' ' What's this I hear ?" 

Sez he, "Haow?" 

Sez I, "You know what I'm alludin' tu. Be you goin' tu 
git married or not ?" 

"Wall," sez he, "I be." 

"At your age?" sez I. 


. . -s-v i/ 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


149 


‘'Better late than never/' sez he. 

“Deceivin' o' me," sez 1. 

“Wall," sez he, “I hain't no patience with rows, and I 
thought rd do it slick and quiet." 

“Oh," sez I, “it's for this I've darned your socks, is it? — 
and made yer things and kep' house fur ye ? Ye're a disgrace tu 
the men sect. You've hed the priveliges o' female serciety and 
never knowed what 'twas tu lose a button, and you must marry 
a widdy — a freckled, red-haired critter " 

“A lot better lookin' than you be," sez he. 

“Hey?" sez L 

“Or ever will be; or ever was," sez he. 

Then I flowed at him and scratched at his phizmahogany. 
Twarn't behavin' with my usual dignitude, but I was exaspera- 
ted. 

Sez I, “Jonathan Grinder," sez I, “ef you think how't I'm 
goin' fur tu play second fiddle where I've played fust so long, 
you’re mistaken. You can't marry that humly critter." 

“ How're you goin' ter perwent it?" sez he. “I'm engaged." 

Sez I, “No matter — I will. " 

He sot quite still, and arter a while sez he : 

“Come, Charity — ^you know you’ll allers be welcome here — 
du be friendly. " 

I didn’t say nuthin'. From that minnit on I never spoke tu 
him. 'Twas a Friday night. Never said a word Saturday nor 
Sunday. He went over to call on the widdy Sunday, and warn't 


150 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


hum till twelve. I never took no notice o' it. I was a maturin, 
o' a plan tu save him. 

Arter tea I told Eveliny what 'twas, and got her tu help me. 
Jonathan is an amazin' heavy sleeper when he gets a goin' — 
snores like a steam injin — and so I warn't afeared o' wakin' him. 
I went intu his room and I got out o' the chest o' drawers and 
places every livin' article o' rayment the deluded critter had tu 
his back — his shoes, and butes, and eveiy^thing, only jest his 
dressin'-gownd — and I packs 'em in a crockery crate, and me 
and Eveliny takes it and puts it down cellar, and piles things 
ontu it and fixes it so’t no mortal could diskiver it, and then we 
retired tu our peaceful slumbers, rectified by the knowledge how't 
we'd saved a human bein' from the snares o' wickedness. 

Didn’t wake up until broad daylight, and then 'twas with the 
awfullest yellin'. I went out, and there was Jonathan intu his 
dressin'-gownd and gray worsted stockin's, and sez he : 

‘‘I've been robbed, Charity ; I hain't a rag ! Oh, murdera- 
tion, what shall I du } Holler thieves ! holler fire ! Go and 
catch 'em ! Murder ! help ! Oh, Jehoshaphat !" 

Sez I, cool as a cucumber, “'Tis onfortunate, on this here 
pertickler occasion." 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ Oh, du you know where they be ?" 

“Where you won't find 'em," sez I. 

“Oh," sez he, “have mercy," sez he. “Tell me where 
they be, " sez he. ‘ ‘ They're tu be tu church tu ten. " 

“Ah I" sez I. 

“Oh," sez he, “I'll present ye with the elegantest o' gowld 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


151 

watches, and two silk gownds, and a bunnit ; only tell me where 
the weddin' suit is ^ 

‘‘Thank ye," sez I, “I kin afford tu dress myself." 

Sez he, “ Til pay you anything you ask. Jest say what you'll 
take." 

Sez I, “My own way, Jonathan, without thankin' you. I 
said you shouldn't be married tu that widder." 

Sez he, “I'll go sol* 

Sez I, “Ef you like." 

Then he went onter his knees and begged o' me. 

Sez I, “I'm only thinkin' o' yer own good. I ain't tu be 
moved, no more'n the old boss chestnut yonder." 

Then he went tarin' round, huntin'. But o' course he couldn't 
find 'em. I never seen nobody in such a rage. Old fools is 
the wust fools. 

Eveliny shet herself up in the garret, so's not tu see him, and 
I was tremblin' fur fear somebody would come tu the door, but 
nobody didn't. 

Ten o'clock come, and Jonathan did start in his dressin'- 
gownd, but he only went as fur as the gate. 

We hed an awful time, but, thanks tu marsy, nobody didn't 
come a near us, and when tea time come I felt safe. 

“ Run over tu the widdy's," said I tu Eveliny, “and peek in 
and find out what has become o' the critter. " 

The gal went. 

When she come back, sez she : 

“Miss Moriarty is intu highstrikes, and her uncle is usin' o’ 


^52 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


profane langwidge, and threatenin' tu murder Mr. Grinder, and 
the minister hes gone ten mile 41 preach a funeral. " 

‘'All safe,” sez I. “We kin let the deluded critter hev his 
things. ” 

So we fetched 'em up. Never heerd him swear afore. Shows 
what widders influences is. 

Well, he was jest gettin' intu somethings when there was a 
banging at the front door. I opens it, and in comes the wid- 
der’s uncle with a horsewhip intu his hand, and sez he : 

“Where's Mr. Grinder?” 

“Up stairs,” sez 1 . 

“Is he ill — dangerously ill?” sez he. 

“Never better as tu health,” sez L 

Jonathan hears the voice and down he comes. 

“Sir,” sez the uncle, “what do you mean by this here in- 
famous conduct?” sez he. “You are no gentleman,” sez he. 

‘ ‘ Explain, ” sez he. 

Sez Jonathan, “'Twarn't my fault, colonel I swan tu man 
'twarn't my fault. I — I couldn't find my butes and things. ” 

The colonel he didn't wait for no more. 

“Couldn't find your butes, hey?” sez he. Feel mine,” sez 
he. 

And he gin Jonathan a hist, and then begun a floggin' o' him. 

Me and Eveliny held ontu his coat tails, but 'twas like holdin' 
ontu them of an elephant. He jist set us spinnin' as ef we 
hadn't no more heft than a fly, and before we marched away we 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


153 


was all lyin’ fur dead in the hall. Jonathan, groanin*, I was in 
highstrlkos, and Eveliny in spasms. 

I staid up tu Peekskill until Wednesday. Then I come down 
agin tu York tu finish my visitin' ; but afore I left the widdy 
had constituted a case o' breach o' promise o' marriage agin 
Jonathan, and every lady said she'd get the verdict. 

So there haln’t no danger o' her now, and I reckon Jonathan 
won't think o' marryin' fur a spell yet, so I'm here. My things 
is cornin' up by a boy, and I'm goin' tu stay a week. How's 
the family, and how are you ? And don't hurry yourself— but 
these events has so conglomerated my nerves that I feel obligated 
tu ask ye how soon ye’re goin' tu hev dinner. 


154 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


• NUMBER NINETEEN. 

MISS GRINDER EATS HER PECK OF DIRT. 

Don’t say nuthin’, Emma Jane. Tve been hevin’ the awful- 
lest time. Wish tu marcy I hadn’t never left Peekskill. Ygrk 
folks is the dirtiest critters born, and them Peelers is the nastiest 
o’ the bilin’. Talk about your peck o’ dirt. I’ve had it in one 
mess. Augh ! It riles me tu think on’t Du give me suthin’ 
to settle me. Augh I 

Never, no never, so long as I’m a livin’ sinner, will I go to see 
Volumny Peeler. It’s as much as a body’s life’s worth. You 
wouldn’t think it tu look at the house, fur they take great 
airs. The heft o’ the dirt’s down kitchen. I went down there 
once, and found the help a polishin’ the tumblers with her 
apron, and warn’t anxious to go agin. I begun to suspect then 
what I found out arterwards, fur I ain’t told you the worst by a 
good deal. 

Volumny is quite young, and so’s her pardner. They’ve got 
a couple o’ children, and two aunts o’ his’n live with ’em. One 
is a dredful fleshy old lady. T’other thin as a rail. The fleshy 
one is Aunt Partheny ; she’s got suthin’ the matter with her feet. 
Some days she can’t only wear Mr. Peeler’s slippers. And the 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


155 


thin one is Aunt Mirandy ; she's got a glass eye. As a gineral 
thing, she don't wear it only when she's dressed fur company. 

Both on 'em is intilectable. Miss Partheny goes in fur wim- 
min's rights; and Miss Mirandy write's fur the Youth's Advi- 
ser. " 

They hev a way o' turnin' up their noses at other folks, and I 
can't say I took a notion tu 'em. But Volumny was head o' 
the house, and she was quite a sociable critter, besides adorin' 
me. As fur Mr. Peeler, he's a temprancer ; won't hev no spirit- 
ual lickers drunk under his ruff, and considers beer a pisen. 
Poor Volumny can't even put no brandy in her mince meat. 

Now, as a beveridge, I never touch nuthin' ; but I'm obliged 
tu keep myself from sinkin', now and then, by a little as a medi- 
cine. Water floats on my stummick — so I ain't tu be blamed. 
And after I'd been in Volumny 's quite a spell I begun to feel 
kinder faintish. 

Thinks me — this here teetotal talk ain’t mebbe jest what it 
sounds. I know I’ve smelt sumthin' in Miss Partheny 's room, 
and I ain't Charity Grinder ef I don't find out what it is. I al- 
ways was a cute one, and secrets ain't tu be kept from me. 

If Peeler is a temprancer, Partheny isn't. 

That was about seven o'clock Sunday evenin'. It come intu 
my head like a streak o' lightenin', and I jest took off the bun- 
nit I was puttin' on tu go tu church. 

‘‘I've got rather of a headache," sez I, “and think I'll stay 
tu hum, ef you'll excuse me, Partheny ?" 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


156 

*'0h, certainly/' sezshe. I suppose you'll find suthin' tu 
amuse you ?" 

''Thank ye," sez I, "I shall." 

And I meant tu. 

The hull o' 'em went, gal and all, Mr. and Miss Peeler, tu 
the Baptists' meetin', and the old ladies to a pecooliar kind o' a 
meetin’ 'us, where they don't approve o' one person preachin', 
but all speak in turns. 

So the house was shut up with only me and the cat, and I 
begun tu look intu things. Purty soon I found what I wanted. 
There was a bottle in Partheny’s closet, and in the bottle there 
was whisky. I felt awful faint that night, so I made myself a 
glass and went tu bed — tickled tu think how I'd found out the 
old critter. 

Arter that, whenever I felt faint, and knowd Partheny was out 
o' the way, I nat'rally helped myself. 

About a week from then it blew up awful cold, and I caught 
a influenzy. 

There ain't nuthin' fur the influenzy like toddy; so, while the 
family was down stairs at tea-time, I made some kind o' an ex- 
cuse and got away. 'Twas quite dark, and there warn't no glass 
in my room, but I found one, half full o' water, in Miss Miran- 
dy's, and jest managed to get a drop o' spirits out o' Partheny's 
bottle and back to my own room before I heard the old ladies 
cornin' up. 

Seein' I had a cold, I mixed more'n usual and swallered it 
down. Land o' Goshen, how skeered I was ! There was suth- 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


157 


in' in the glass as hard as a bone, and I come near chokin' tu 
death with it. I was black in the face, I know, but I wouldn't 
holler fur fear o' bein' found out. It went down at last, and I 
came out o' my room, and was goin' down stairs, when I heard 
Miss Mi randy jawin' away tu the gal : 

^‘You hev," sez she. 

“I hain't," sez the gal. 

I left it here," sez she. 

‘ * I hain't seen it, " sez the gal. 

''What's the matter?" sez I. 

Sez she, " I've lost my glass eye. I alius put it in a tumbler 
o' water on the table, and there it was an hour ago. She's 
moved it." 

I begun to turn sick. 

"This here table?" sez 1. 

"Jest here," sez she. 

And that was the place I'd got my glass from ; and I knowed 
as well as I know now. I'd swallowed Miss Mirandy's glass eye. 

"Oh!" sez I. 

Sez she, ' ' What’s the matter ?" 

"I'm kinder faintish," sez I. 

And out I goes. Miss Partheny's door was open, and I run 
in. 

"Excuse me," sez I, "but I turned so sick I hev tu sit 
down. " 

She sat me a cheer, and sez she : 

" Excuse my continuing fur tu do this." 


158 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Sez I, ‘^Sartainly/' 

And then I saw she was a bathin’ her feet. She had a basin 
and she had a bottle. It was the bottle I had diskivered, a kind 
o’ flat one. 

Sez she, ‘‘Fm ordered fur tu bathe ’em in whisky.” 

*‘Oh,” sez I. 

^^Yes,” sez she. 

‘‘It must come expensive,” sez I. 

“ Not very,” sez she. 

I jest watched her. There was a tin funnel on the table, and 
I wondered what that was for. I didn’t wonder long ; for oh, 
Emma Jane ! when that nasty critter had bathed her feet, and 
wiped ’em, and put on her shoes and stockins, she jest took the 
funnel and put it in the bottle, and pitched the whisky through 
it agin. 

I screeched out. 

She laughed. 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ What air you doin’, for the love o’ goodness 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ I allers du it for tu save. ” 

“Allers?” sez I. 

“Until it’s tu dirty,” sez she. 

“How often hev you changed this?” sez I. 

“Well,” sez she, “about ten times, I guess.” 

I got up and tried to go, but 'twas tu dreadful. I keeled 
over, and gin myself up to spasms. 

She screeched and fetched the rest, and somehow in my agony 
o’ terror I let the hull out. I got the essense o’ Miss Partheny’s 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


159 


feet and Miss Mirandy's eye in me both together, and I didn't 
keer fur nuthin' else jest then. 

Well, I called 'em dirty critters, and they answered back. 
And Volumny took their parts, and Peeler begun a temprance 
lectur, and the very next mornin' I cum away ; and here I am. 
Shouldn't wonder ef I died, though I'm goin' to take sassafrax 
by the gallon, tu try tu git the eye and them feet out o' my blud, 
where I’m sure they ve gone. 


x6o 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER TWENTY, 

CHARITY GOES A MAYING. 

You mustn’t think hard o’ me, Penelopy Jane, fur not hevin’ 
bin here before. I’ve bin helpin’ Mandy and her par tu move, 
or I should a bin 

Don’t you know ’em } Lor ! why they’re fust chop for gen- 
tility. He’s one o’ the fust o’ Intelligence Office Keeper’s, and 
Mandy’s ma’s pa was a gentleman boss butcher. 

Miss Fioger would ha’ bin Mrs. Floger ef he’d a thought 
’twas any use tu Step up tu me. He knowed ’twarn’t, though ; 
’twas purty well knowed in Peekskill how’t I hadn’t no great o’ 
an opinion o’ the men sect. 

“Well, shes gone, and Amandy is purty well growed up. 
Takes arter her pa, and ain’t a mite good-lookin’, nuther. She 
ain’t no gret o’ a housekeeper ; sweeps up behind the grate-pans 
and tucks rubbish inter the pantrys, and the help is nat rally 
them he can’t git rid of tu the Intelligence Office, and don’t turn 
out partic’larly well. They hev one a week, and while I was 
there the fust got tipsy and was blowed up along of a kerosene 
lamp, and the second walked oif in Mandy’s bunnit, and the 
third was sich a dirty critter that the wonder is mushrooms didn’t 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


i6i 


grow in tne dirt on the hitching table. Twas thick enough, 
goodness knows, and the place was damp enough. 'Twas the 
damp decided 'em to move a fust o' May, 

Movin' is a terrible job, Miss Grinder," sez he; '''specially 
when there ain't nobody o' experience tu manage the goin s on. " 

"Lor!" sez I, "it must be," sez I. "But don't you fidget, 
Mr. Floger; I’ll stay and help." 

He looked at me with the most touchin' expression o' grati- 
tude, and sez he : 

"Miss Grinder, I shall be deeply thankful." 

Oilers was a polite man from his youth. 

So I staid ; and it's well I did. Dunno what on airth that 
poor critter would a done ef I hadn't, for Mandy ain’t no more 
use than a tree-toad. 

They tried fur to get in before the fust o' May, but the family 
that was a goin' out, where they was goin', didn’t want to go, 
and insisted how't they wouldn't budge until twelve o'clock May 
day. When Mr. Floger heard that he jest tugged at his hair — 
hain't none too much, neither — and sez he : 

"Desperation I" 

* ' Why, what’s the matter ?" sez I. 

Sez he, "Ever moved in New York on May day?" 

"No," sez I. 

" Wait and see," sezhe. "Wait and see! Ah, ha!" 

"Du tell," sez 1. "What on airth?" 

Sez he, "It oilers rains." 

Sez I, "The almanac sez 'Sot fair."' 


i 62 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


“No matter, '' sez he, ‘ ' it will. Next place the carters charge 
you double, and don’t come when they promise, at that. You 
get mixed up with folks cornin’ in and the folks goin’ out get 
mixed up with you, and the heft o’ the things is smashed, and 
what ain’t smashed is lost, and you don’t hev nothin’ tu eat, 
and you hev tu sleep up chimbly on a mattress, and you can’t 
find soap or towels, or toothbrushes, and you can’t get to rights 
until you’ve had whitewash people and scrubbing people to 
make the place sloppy, and the carpets won’t fit, and there’s no 
room for the bedstead. ” 

Then he kinder groaned and stopped. 

Sez I, “Things sha’n’t be so this time.” 

Sez he, “Bless you ef they ain’t, but I don’t believe it.” 

Poor man ! I felt tu pity him. How he needs a wife. It’s 
his bounden duty fur to espunge some competent person o’ ex- 
perience fur to direct his household. 

Amandy, I must say, ain’t like her pa. She don’t appreciate 
me. She ain’t as much obleeged fur my endeavors to sot things 
right as she’d orter. But I allude it to her ignorance, and pity 
her. I staid, though she as much as told me there warn’t no 
need until the fust come. 

We’d packed a’most everything, and we’d cleared out the base- 
ment fur the Jones folks, poor critters. They was movin’ where 
we was quittin’, because Mr. Jones hadn’t only a thousand a 
year, and the landlord had riz their rent tu two thousand. 

Never felt so sorry fur nobody as I (lid fur her. I took lunch 
with her. Her brother was a sea cappen, and she had lots o’ 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


163 


nice furrin things in jars, and quite kep her sperrits up, poor 
thing, tellin' her how damp the house was, and what a bad neigh- 
borhood ’twas, and cetery. 

By the time I was through our carts had come, and I run up 
stairs. 

'‘Now, Mandy,'' sez I, "you cut round tu the new hou^e 
and be there to receive the things. '' 

"Well,'' sez she, "sence you've took matters in hand I s'pose 
I might as well. " 

Critter was as mad as hop, though. 

Off she went, and me and Mr. Floger staid. 

The cartmen was mostly Irish, and the way o' movin' was tu 
wedge tables and things tight intu doorways and then holler that 
they wouldn't go through, and then Mr. Floger had tu go tu 
work and argy that what had went in would go out. 

At last sez he, "I must help 'em," and off he peels his coats, 
and hangs 'em on a nail, and sez he : 

"Be keerful o' them coats. Miss Grinder." 

‘ ' O' course, " sez I ; and I kep an eye on 'em. " 

Purty soon one load was on, and off he went with it, carryin’ 
a clock, and perched up in front in his shirt sleeves. 

I hollered tu him, but he didn’t hear, and I sot down on a 
feather bed tu wait until the carts came back. 

Land o' liberty, how tejus it was ! 

Wall, I hadn't sot there long, when I seen a man gettin' ovei 
the balcony rails. He was a young feller, with a head o' black 
hair close tu his head, as ef it had been chawed down by some 


164 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


old cow, and at fust I didn't like his looks. But when I hollered 
out, “ What du you want sez he, ^ * The gentleman that s jest 
gone off sent me." 

“Oh," sez I. “Who be you !" 

“The confidential help," sez he. 

* “Hey.?" sez I. 

Sez he' “ Mebbe you’re a stranger in York .?" 

“ I be," sez I. 

“Well," sez he, “you know, rnum, cartmen is so dishonest 
that ’tain’t safe tu trust the wallyables tu ’em, so them that is 
prudent employs us. We’re warranted honest by the Tract So- 
ciety, and is all highly respectable young men." 

“How looks will deceive!" sez I. 

“Yes’m," sez he. 

“So Mr. Floger sent you.?" sez I. 

“Yes’m," sez he. “Mr. Floger said fur you tu send every- 
thing wallyable by me." 

* ‘ Well, " sez I, ‘ ‘ there’s the planner. ’’ 

“Oh," sez he, “yes’m; but you see I mean small things. 
Fd be glad enough," sez he, “tu take the planner, only I ain’t 
hed the strength bestowed on me. I think," sez he, “the gen- 
tleman mentioned silver!' 

“Yes," sez I, and I fetches a basket “The forks, and 
spoons, and cake-basket, and teapot is here. Don’t joggle Vm 
to scratch ’em. Fll put this here photography album intu it, 
tu," sez I ; “and there’s a lot o’ damask uapUnsN Kin you 
carry any more T* 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


165 


Yes’m/' sez he. 

' ‘ Then here's the mantelry ornamentations, " sez 1 . * ^ They 

cost a lot, so be keerful. And I tell you what yu du — ^jest take 
these coats on your arm, and tell Mr. Floger to put 'em on. 
The dear man will catch his death in his shirt sleeves. 

He took the coats. 

‘‘ Tm afeered you'll find them things heavy," sez I. 

‘"No'm," sez he ; ‘‘and ef they air. I'm thankful tu exert my 
strength. I wish," sez he, “I could take the hull that's here 
— I du, indeed.” 

OT he went, and I sot down agin tu think what an excellent 
young man he must be, and while I was thinkin' back comes the 
carts — Mr. Floger on one o' em in his shirt sleeves yet He 
comes into the room, and sez he : 

“ I'm chilled tu death. Shouldn't wonder ef I'd hev fever an' 
ager. Where's my coats 

“Land o' liberty!" sez I, “you've passed the help. I sent 
'em by him." 

“What help?" sez he. 

“The confidential help recommended by the Tract "Society,” 
sez I. 

He sot down, and sez he : 

“ Who sent him, Mandy ?" 

“He Slid you did," sez I. “I've giv him the silver, and 
manteltry ornaments, and your coats, and two dozen 0’ damask 
napkins. So I hope it's all right” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


i66 

^‘Yes/' sez he, ‘‘all right — quite right. Only what I ex- 
pected — ^you've gin 'em tu a thief." 

I went intu highstrikes. 

My feelin's was past description ; but Amandy Floger actually 
said how't ef I hadn't bothered round it wouldn't a happened. 
She said, tu, how't the bottom o' the barril I’d packed the best 
chany in cornin' out and smashin' everything tu hinder, was my 
fault, and attributed the handles o' the fryin'-pan goin' through 
the eye o' Miss Floger — her pictur, I mean — tu me. 

'Twarn't pleasant tu see her exhibit such an unchristian tem- 
per, so I left until they got cleaned up, and was heving reg'lai 
dinners agin. 

I shall go tu see 'em, however, agin, for though Amandy is a 
disagreeable, sot up piece, I highly respect her pa. He'd orter 
unite himself with a second pardener o' the highest respectabil- 
latude and economy, that would see tu things fur him ; don't 
you think so, Penelopy Jane } The only objection I hev tu goin' 
there is, that he's a widdiwer, and folks o' narrer minds might 
say I wanted fur tu catch him. 

Folks that knows me through, knows the way I've always re- 
garded fhe men sect, and that I'm above it. Guess so. 

Jest a cup o' tea, and some muffins, and jelly. Don't put 
yourself out fur me, Penelopy. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


167 


NUMBER TWENTY-ONE. 

CHARITY BECOMES A VICTIM. 

Eveliny Buckstaver, what I fetched up, and rectified her man- 
ners and her morals myself — that I thought was the moralest 
young woman I knowed. Eveliny Buckstaver, that went and 
warned me o' the doin's o' the Widder Moriarty. She that helped 
me to discomfiscate the snares o' a designin' female, and has 
said, a dozen times and more: “Oh, Miss Grinder, how any 
female o' common sense kin unite herself tu a member o' the 
men sect, I can't diskiver. " She that’s said them words as ef she 
meant 'em. Why, it's enough tu make any indiwiddle's hair 
stand on eend. Mine riz up like wires when I fust knowed it. 

Last Saturday, while I was a-settin' in Mirandy's parlor, there 
come a knock at the door, and the help comes in, and sez she : 

“There's a person tu the door wants tu see Miss Grinder, by 
the name o' Eveliny Buckstaver." 

“Lor!" sez I. “Eveliny! Well, show her in." 

In she comes and I shakes hands. (Oh, the nasty, yaller, 
scrawny critter, how she deceived me !) And sez she : 

“ How are ye. Miss Grinder?" 

“Tu be crawlin'," sez I. “What fetches down?" 


i68 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


‘‘Oh !” sez she, “nuthin’ much. I axed Mr. Jonathan ef I 
mout come. Thought, seein’ you was tu York, you'd go a 
shoppin' with me. York-boughten things is considerable supe- 
rior tu them tu Peekskill. " 

“Sartinly, I will," sez I ; “and what you'd do in this awful 
city I dunno ef you hadn't a pusson o' experience tu show you 
its perils. Yes, Eveliny, I'll shop with you." 

So I did. 

“ How's Jonathan?" sez I, when we was out on the street 

Sez she, “Purty middlin'." t 

“Is he dejected consarnin' the widdy?" sez I. 

“Oh, Lor', no !" sez she. “'Twarn't only skin-deep/' 

‘ ‘ Does she come arter him ?" sez I. 

“Not she," sez Eveliny. 

“I heerd she'd got the case," sez I. 

‘ ‘ So she has, " says Eveliny. ‘ ‘ But she won't get him. " 

Then we both larfed, fit tu kill ourselves. 

“What air you goin' tu buy?" sez I. 

“Well," sez she, “a gown, and a shawl, and a bunnit, and 
fixin's. I've got a lot o' savin’s. " 

And jest as she said that, we cUm to a store. 

It was one o' them big places in Broadway, and I walks up tu 
one o' them young men, and sez I : 

“See here, mister. I've fetched 3’ou a new customer. Here's 
Eveliny Buckstaver, my help, that I fetched up, and she's goin' 
tu buy a heap." 

He grins, and sez he ; 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


169 


'^What would you like tu see?"' 

“A silk/' sez Eveliny. 

‘‘Lor'/' sez I, “goin' tu make a splurge!" 

Sez she, “I'd ortu hev a silk/' 

“Wall," sez I, “p'raps so." 

The young man sez?, “A black?" 

“ No, " sez she ; ‘ ‘ that’s too old-womanish. " 

He fotches out a blue, and a red, and a pink, and then a yal- 
ler, and a brown. He said the brown v/as a “queer" color, 
thought so tu. 

“Bat," sez Eveliny, sez she, “I want suthin' lighter." 

Out he fetches some more, and she pitches on a kind of a 
pearl. 

“Why," sez I, “ sho, you ain't goin' tu get that ? Hain't no 
wear intu it. You'll hev it dyed in six months." 

Sez she, “ I sha'n't wear it often. " 

“Wall," sez I, “fling your money in the street, ef you like. 
'Tain’t my advice. " 

Well, she bought the dress, and the linin', and the buttons, 
and, sez she, “I’ll see a shawl." 

When the young man heard that, he sent us up stairs, and ef 
Eveliny didn’t buy a white shawl. 

“You air crazy," sez 1. 

“Oh, no I ain't,” sez she. 

“You’ll look like a bride," sez 1. 

“Oh, get out 1" sez she., 

“You will," sez 1. 


170 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘So long as I ain't, 1 don't care," sez she. 

Well, then she bought gloves the color o' her dress, and, af- 
terward, a white bunnit. Perfectly ridiculous for a help ; but 
she only laughed when I said so. 

I felt as mad as a meat-ax, and we were goin' to yvhere she 
was a stoppin' — she larfin and me a givin' it to her well — when 
I comes bump agin somebody, and, land o' liberty, 'twas Jona- 
than. 

“Why!" sez I. 

‘ ‘ 'Tain't you, " sez he. ‘ ‘ Wall, Eveliny I" , 

She grins. 

“She's ashamed o' herself. Been a wastin' o' her Money," 
• sez I. “What she's bought is fit for a bride." 

Sez he, “She'll hev tu be one, and wear 'em, then." 

Sez I, “I hope she knows better. " 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ Them's your idees. " 

“Yes," sez I. 

“Oh !" sez he. “Wall, now, ain't you hungry.?" 

“Yes," sez I. 

And he walked us into the shiniest place I ever saw, and 
treated us tu a dinner. Never saw him so good-natured. 

Before he was through, sez he : 

“Charity. " 

“Yes," sez I. 

‘ ‘ I don't owe you no grudge about the widdy, ” sez he. 

“ Hope not," sez I. “You'd orter be thankful." 

“Wall," sez he, she " 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


171 

Eveliny she larfed 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ I was mistook. I didn't care much for her. " 

'‘Well," sez I, "Iknowedit." 

Then he and Eveliny both larfed hearty. 

Thinks me, "It's only goin' tu prove how changeable the 
men sect is. He adored the widdyonce," but he didn't say 
nothin'. 

Arter a while Eveliny said she was anxious to go, and they left 
me tu Mirandy's, and went away tu take her bundles tu her 
cousin's, where she was a stoppin'. 

I didn't see nothin' of her for a few days, but Jonathan called 
in the evenin' twice. 

Before the most horrid o' cSamities folks is ginerally carm. I 
didn't expect nothin'. I slept and took my reg’lar meals like a 
innocent lamb before it's slaughtered. 

Sabberday, a young gal that's sewin' for Mirandy, come intu 
my room tu ax me tu lace her stays. 

Sez she, "I'm goin' tu our church, to-day — there's to be a 
weddin'. " 

"Goodness!" sez I. "I'll go tu, then." 

Sez she, "Du, Miss Grinder, weddin's is so sweet." 

' ' They air warnin's, " sez I. " I go as a matter o' duty. " 

" Oh 1" sez she, and grins. 

I was mad enough to box her ears ; but they're all alike, the 
hull of 'em. We took a car and went. We wasn't very early, 
and the church was full, so^t we had to take a back seat. 

‘ ' Can't see much o' the bride, " sez I, 


172 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


“No/' sez she. 

How provokin'. 

Well, the church kept fillin' up, and when the weddin' party 
came, I couldn't see nuthin' of 'em, but a kind o' a shine of 
white. 

‘ ' Is she pretty ?" sez I, tu the young woman. She was taller 
than me. 

“No," sez she. 

“And him?" 

“As humbly as a stone fence." 

The service was goin' on, and I listened. 

The minister axed everybody tha^ad anything fur tu say agin 
the union fur tu speak,* or ever after hold their tongues. Then 
he went on a marryin' of 'em. 

Sez he, “Will you, Eveliny, take this man fur tu be your 
wedded husband?" and the rest on’t 

“Lor'," sez I, “I know a voung woman by the name o' 
Eveliny, and I larfcd. 

Pretty soon he was talkin' tu the man. 

Sez he, “Will you, Jonathan, take this woman fur to be your 
wedded v/ife ?" 

“Lor'," sez I, “my brother is named Jonathan. How cu- 
rious !" 

“Yes," sez she. 

And the minister went on and finished. 

Then sez she : 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


m 


Hurry out, and stand on the payment, and we'll see 'em get 
into the carriage.” 

So we went, and stood. 

Purty soon out they comes. I stares and stares, and then I 
begins tu clasp my hands. 

“Oh, 'tain't,” sez I. 

“What?” sez she. 

“Arter all my bringin' up,” sez 1. 

“What is it?” sez she. 

“Oh!” sez I, “ohl” 

“What is the matter?” sez she. 

“It is,” sez I, “the awful truth sinkin' intu my mind. It is 
my brother, Jonathan Grinder, and our help, Eveliny Bucksta- 
ver. ” 

“Du toll I” sez she. 

“Stop ’em,” sez 1. “Tell the minister I won’t have it.” 

“Ho said fur you tu speak then, or ever arter hold your 
tongue, ” sez she. 

So he had, and I’d kept my head shut, and the time was past. 

“Como with me,” sez I, and the young gal went. 

We got tu the cousin’s house in about ten minutes, and found 
'em all at dinner. In I goes, and before ’em I stands like a 
sperit 

“Wretches !” sez 1. “Behold her you hev betrayed 1” 

“Land o’ liberty I” sez the cousin “Is it his fust wife? 
Scratch his eyes out 1 Oh, the fiend 1” 

Sez Eveliny, “ It ain't nobody but Miss Charity.” 


174 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


“ Oh/' sez I, '' don't speak tu me. This here is your opinion 
o' the men sect, is it ? aidin' and abettin' my brother in his in- 
iquity. " 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ We're both o' age. " 

Reckon you air," sez I. 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ This here disturbance at a weddin' ain't respect- 
able, Miss Grinder." 

Ain't it," sez I. Is it respectable fur tu act like a wolf in 
a sheepfold, and marry my brother while I was as you supposed 
— out o' bearin'? You, that pretended to be my friend, and , 
that I fetched up and made a help of?" 

“Oh," sez she, “I’ve alius felt tu pity Mr. Grinder, and 
knowed he was treated dreadful." 

“Bywho?"sezL 

“By^^?«," sez sne. “Old maids is alius tyrants." 

“Let me get at her," sez I. And I flowed, but Jonathan 
catches me. 

“You sha'n't tech her," sez he; “she's my wife. I've prom- 
ised fur tu pertect her, and I will. Ef you'll set down and dine, 
well and good ; ef not, you'd better go. " 

“ ril go,'' sez I. “ ril go ; but I'll hev vengeance." 

“Very well," sez he. “You can't stop me now, you know ; 
so go ahead. " 

I did. I hev a sperit still. The worm turned. I went up 
to Peekskill that night. I got intu the house. -I smashed all 
the chany, and tore off all the wall paper, and cracked the look- 
ing-glass, and rubbed lime intu the front parlor carpet, and I 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


^75 


whitewashed the mahogany furniture, and pulled up the flowers 
in the garden, until there was a satisfaction in reflectin' that no 
bride ever went hum to sech a house ; and that I'd given her 
work for a month, and him expenses tu match. Then I writ in 
charcoal on the hall wall: ''Miss Charity Grinder’s compli- 
ments,” and took my things and came away. I shall live in 
York fur good, and never speak to either of ’em while I live. 


176 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER TWENTY-TWO. 

MISS GRINDER DETECTS AN ATROCIOUS PT.OT. 

He wore his hair dreadful long, and had a hat with a slopin’ 
crown, and a cord and tussel, and his collar was wide open. 
Ef I'd a hed sccch a humbly throat, I'd hcv buttoned it close ; 
and he hed a black mustache, and was altogether the awfullest- 
lookin’ critter ever I see. 

‘Hleturah,” sez I — I was stopp‘n’ a spell tu Keturah Kalso- 
mine’s ; she’s separated from h r pardner, and earns a livin’ 
keepin’ genteel boarders — ‘‘Keturah, don't you take him.” 

“ LorV’ sez she. “Why not. Charity ?” 

Sez I, “I misdoubt him. ’ 

Sez she, “He’s a very interestin’ young man, /think. Be- 
sides,” sez she, “he’s oITercd fur to pay in advance.” 

“Well,” sez I, “you air your own mistress, Keturah ; but 
as fur me. I’d sooner sleep under the ruff with a cannibal.” 

Sez she, “ What on airth has given you such a pecooliar opin- 
ion o’ Mr. Chalker?” 

“Well,” sez I, “I’m partially prejudiced by his wearin’ his 
hair like a gorilla, and partially by his hevin’ no buttons tu his 
collar/' 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


177 


sazsha, don t his hair, butthaRev. Cata- 
lina Cramp, that caina back fruin a mission tu the heathens, he 
wore his'a so, anJ the collar is the identical ima^^e o’ Lord By- 
ron’s/' 

Sez I, “ Probably there was excuses fur the Reverend Mister 
Cataline Crump. When you live at Rome you must du as the 
Romans du, and prob’ly that was the fashion amon^^st the 
heathens; but dont^ for goodness’ sake, mention Lord Byron 
before me, I consider how’t ’tain’t proper fur a lady even tu hear 
his name. Shouldn’t wonder ef that new boarder o yourn was 
like Lord Byron in more things than his collar.” 

She larfed, and sure enough my words didn’t make no im- 
pression onto her mind, and that young man was admitted be- 
neath her ru.T. I knowed then suthin’ dretful would come on’t. 
I wouldn’t a gone tu sleep with the door o' my room unlocked 
fur no money. 

B. 'Sides his hair and his collar, Mr. Chalker was pecooliar in 
other things. He had a habit of groanin’ and another habit o’ 
sithin. He used tu sit up until the awfulest late hours, burnin’ 
the gas, full head, as poor Keturah said, without remorse; and 
often and often, I know fur sartin how’t he didn’t go tu bed at 
all until he’d hed his breakfast. 

Another thing he was perdicted tu was smoke. I never knew 
a chimney.as bad as him in them respects; but then I must say 
this o’ the present gineration o’ young men, you can tell when 
the heft o’ ’em is cornin’, fust by a smell o* stale tobaccer, and 
then by a smell o’ stale gin, and pertickerlerly by a train o’ little 


178 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


puddles where they’ve bin a spittin'. Mr. Chalker wam't much 
worse than the rest, only he kep’ it up later. 

What he did fur a livin' I couldn’t tell. I warn't curus about 
it, but in the cause o' respectabilitude I consider it a Christian 
duty fur tu find out who folks be. 

On Tuesday evenin' I retired at a unusually early hour. 
'Twarn't without a motive. 

At that hour Mr. Chalker went out for a walk, reg’lar, staid 
about an hour, and then come back. His room was opposite 
mine, and my key opened his door. Ef 'twas possible tu dis- 
kiver what he was, I meant tu du it 

Nat’rally seein’ how't this was my intention, I didn't undress. 
I jist slipped on my purple calico double gown, and a nightcap, 
and when I heerd him go out, run across and in. 

The room was upside down, and smelt o' smoke, and there 
was four bottles on the man tel try. But things was locked up, 
with the exception o' his trunk. I looked intu that He hadn't 
no shirts but two flannel ones ; but he had a lot o' gaper buz- 
zums, and collars, and cuffs. He was forehand for neck- ties, 
tew, and I was jesttryin' tu see what was in a paper passel, when, 
land o' liberty ! I heerd the lock turn, and in a minnit I knowed 
he'd returned. There warn't nuthin' left for me but tu slip intu 
a pantry, and blow my light out The next minnit in he walks, 
along with another person of the men sect. My heart palpita- 
tioned with the knowledge o' how indelicately I was sittiwated, 
and ef it hadn't a been for fear o' bein' heerd, I should hev con- 
sidered it my duty for tu hev had highstrikes. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


179 


The other gentleman was very stout, and wore his head almost 
shaved, as near as I could see. 

Mr. Chalker sot a cheer, and sez he, ‘‘Be seated, sir/' 

“Thank ye," sez the other. 

“Shall I light the sez Mr. Chalker. 

“No," sez the other. “I prefer such conversation as we're 
about to hev to be had in the twilight. You can think better — 
eh?" 

Then Mr. Chalker poured out suthin', and they both drank, 
and then they lit a couple o' cigars and smoked. Then sez the 
visitor : 

“See here, Chalker, I dunno as you'll thank me for sayin' so, 
but I don't like your plot." 

“What's the matter with it?" sez Mr. Chalker. 

‘ ‘ There ain't enough action intu it, " sez the other. ‘ ‘ There's 
talkin' and no dewin'." 

I folds my hands and rolls up my eyes, and thinks me, “Air 
I the instrument for tu be used intu the detection o' a plot /' 

Then I listened. ^ 

“Well," sez Mr. Chalker, “I dunno. I've broke off Eveli- 
ny's marriage, and kidnapped her sweetheart and sent him to 
sea, and I've forged a letter tellin' her how't he's unfaithful, and 
she's goin' to marry Black Dungariy." 

“And the hull o' this time I hain't nuthin' to do," sez the 
other wretch. 

“The risin' moon discloses you a waitin' in the woods fur to 


i8o 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


murder the old grandfather, for tu obtain his will,” sez Mr. 
Chalker. That’s what I call a strikin’ p’int.” 

I groaned in sperit, but I didn’t durse to groan aloud, and I 
went on listenin’. 

The other riifiian sez sez he ; 

‘'Do you suppose ’twould be likely fur him to carry the will 
intu his pocket in the woods.? No,” sez he. “Tell you what 
— I’ll conceal myself in the old gentleman’s room. He’s pious, 
ain’t he? Well, Til be behind the curtain and he’ll come in. 
Of course, he’ll take out his will and talk about it ; then he’ll 
kneel down fur to pray. There’ll be a dim light intu the room, 
and I’ll start forward to slow music with my knife lifted— don’t 
you see ? He turns, says ‘Hal’ and I plunge it into his heart 
—eh.?” 

“Very good,” sez Mr. Chalker. 

“Oh, the wretches !” sez I. 

“Then, you see, I obtain the property,” sez the wretch, 
“and there ain’t nothin’ left but to pison Carlos and stab his 
brother. ” 

“Very well,” sez Mr. Chalker; “but Tompkins must cany 
oT Eveliny on her wedding-night. I can’t alter that. You’ve 
got plenty to do noWy surely.” 

“I should think he had” sez I. “Oh, land o’ liberty! ef I 
ever get safe out o’ here it’ll be a miracle. The critters will 
murder ine fur bearin’ of their plot if they diskiver me. What 
shill I du.? — what shill I du?” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


i8i 

I felt the hull horror of my sittyation rush upon me, and I 
kinder groaned. 

’ Hullo scz the other wretch. 

What's that?" sez Mr. Chalker. 

‘ ^ A ghost in the cellerage, " sez the fust. 

I made sure o' being diskivered, and I groaned again. 

‘'Can't find a match," scz Mr. Chalker. 

Then he runs out intu the hall and hollers "Biddy." 

And my presence o' mind come to my aid, and I slipped past 
'em in the dark, and across the entry intu my own room. There 
I locked myself in and went to bed, with four gas-jets burnin', 
and a hammer in my right hand, and my numberlll in my left. 
I heerd 'em telMn' how’t a burglar was concealed intu their 
room, and had slipped out, and I thanked fortune nobody knew 
'twas me. Then I begun tu reflect how it was my duty tu act; 
finally 1 decided, and scz I, "Til du it at any price. Charity 
Grinder, nerve yourself," scz I, "and be brave." 

I waited until the house was quiet, and then I riz up and put 
on my double gownd and slipped intu Keturah s room. She 
was snorin' dreadful, and so was her three young 'uns. 

Boardln’-housekeepers is ginerally crowded, but I wam’t pre- 
pared fur la find the hull family sleepln' with their ma. 

I leans over and shakes her, and sez I : 

"Keturah." 

"Well," sez she, "it ain't mornin'." 

"No," seal, "it's the solemn hour o' half-past one. I've 
got a dreadful disclosure fur tu make." 


i 82 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


She kinder shrieks, and sot up, and sez she : 

‘‘Oh, what has happened?'' 

Sez I, “Don't say nothin', Keturah. Come intu my room 
and I’ll tell ye." 

She comes, white as a spook, and all shakin'. 

“ Oh !" sez she, “oh, du speak, quick !" 

Sez I, “I was right about Mr. Chalker." 

“Hey?" sez she. 

Sez I, “Accident has throwed me in a sittywation fur tu hear 
a conversation betwixt him and another wicked critter. I've , 
overheerd a plot. " 

“A plot in a respectable boardin'-house ?" sez she. 

Sez I, “Yes, Keturah. Du you know anybody o' the name 
o' Eveliny that's engaged tu a young man ?" 

Sez she, “Yes. There's Miss Perkins, over the way." 

Sez I, “ Has she a grandpa ?" 

Sez she, “ She keeps house fur him. " 

Sez I, “It's her." 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ What's her ?" 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ Mr. Chalker has had the young man she's engaged 
tu kidnapped and sent tu sea, so's to hev her marr” some one 
else." 

“How you talk !" sez she. 

“He sez so," sez I; “and,. besides, the otner wretch is tu 
hide in the old gentleman's room, and when he sees him kneel 
down tu say his prayers, come behind him and murder him. 
Arter that, they're tu pison and stab a couple more — ^jest this 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 183 

minnit I disremember their names — and one on 'em is tu carry 
off Miss Perkins." 

Sez Keturah, sez she, ‘^You must be crazy, Charity; this 
here can't be so. " 

Sez I, Where's the family Bible? I'm willin' tu take my 
afterdavid on't." 

Sez she, ‘'It must be some horrid dream," sez she. “ It's a 
awful thing not to hev nobody o' the men sect tu rely ontu in 
this here emergency. I think 'twas real mean o' Mr. Kalsomine 
fur tu run off when he knowed how females was sittiwated alone 
in the world. " 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ Seein' sich is the case, and us two tugether, I don't 
think 'twould be unproper for tu rouse up Dr. Bloonder and 
Mr. Meggs." 

“Perhaps not," sez she. 

“Come," sez I. 

So arter she'd slipped on a mornin' gownd, we went tu Dr. 
Bloonder's room door. 

She knocks, and he cries : 

“ What's that ?" 

“Oh!" sez I, “excuse me. Dr. Bloonder. We shouldn't 
trouble you at the dead o' night ef 'twurn't a case o' life and 
death." 

In a few minnits out he comes, and sez he : 

“Who's ill? Who is ill, my dear ladies?" 

Sez I, “It's wuss than indispersition o' the body." 

“Ah 1 " sez he. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


184 

‘'Yfes/' sez 1. ‘‘Wake Mr. Meggs, please, and jine us in 
' the dinin’-room. " 

Sez he, “It ain't fire or thieves?" 

“You shall hear," sez I. “Be calm, and you shall hear." 

So she and me proceeded to the dinin'-room, and they foh 
lered. 

I closes the door, and turns up the gas, and we sits down. 
Miss Kalsomine commenced. 

Sez she, “Gentlemen, Fm sorr}^ to inform you how't Miss 
Charity Grinder has diskivered suthin' awful regardin' Mr.' 
Chalker." 

“Ah !" sez the doctor. 

Sez Mr. Meggs, “I haven't much o' an opinion o' Chalker's 
morals myself. " 

Sez Miss Kalsomine, “Its more than you can imagine, Mr. 
Meggs. ]\Iiss Grinder happenin' " 

“ Permiscously tu be passin' the door, " sez I. 

“Yes," sez she. “Overheard him a talkin' tu another man, 
and connivin' o' a plot. And," sez she — a sobbin' so’t I felt tu 
pity her — “tu think o' livin' respected, and keepin' the best 
o‘ tables at the prices things is now, fur tu hev plots connived 
under my own ruflf. " 

Sez the doctor^ “Trewth, Miss Kalsomine, is stranger than 
fiction." 

Sez Mr. Meggs, “We're all attention." 

“Well," sez Miss Kalsomine, “Miss Grinder heerd the plot. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


185 


as I said. They're goin' first tu kidnap Eveliny Perkins, and 
send her tu sea. " 

‘‘No," sez I ; “it's her young man." 

“That's what I mean," sez she. “And then they're goin'tu 
come behind the old gentleman, her grandfather, and murder 
him while he's sayin’ his prayers, fur the object o' stealin' his 
will." 

“Gracious heavings, what du I hear?" sez the doctor. 

“When is this here atrocious plot to be consummated?" sez 
Mr. Meggs. 

Sez I, “That I didn't hear." 

Sez he, “It may be this very night." 

“Yes," sez 1. 

Sez he, “We must warn the Perkinses at once. Some of us 
must guard the house tu prevent the villain's escape, and others 
go over to the Perkinses. Meggs, wake up Tompkins, and 
Brown, and Blossom— will you? We three will go over to Per- 
kins'. " 

We went. Mr. Perkins came to the door. 

“Excuse me," sez I, “fur intrudin' at the solemn hour o' 
nearly tew, but your lives depends on't. " 

He begins tu yell “ Fire I fire ! fire !" at the top of his lungs. 

“Hush !" sez the doctor. “'Tisn't fire — its a plot. ' 

“Oh," sez he. “Come in, du. Excuse my costoom — I 
didn't expect ladies. Fll be back in a minute." 

He went away, and purty soon down came Miss Perkins, in 


i86 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


nightcap and shawl, and Eveliny, with her hair in papers. Then 
enters Perkins with more on. 

Sez the doctor, sez he, ‘'Don’t be needlessly alarmed." 

“Thank ye," sez Mr. Perkins. 

“But," sez the doctor, “this lady is, I believe, betrothed to 
a young gentleman V* 

“Yes," sez her ma. 

“Oh 1" sez Eveliny. ^^Has anything happened to Jones.?" 

Sez he, “I hope not, but there is a plot fur to kidnap him 
and send him to sea. One who calls himself Chalker is the 
ringleader. Probably, however, that is an alias. " 

‘ ‘ Oh !" screams Eveliny, “oh I oh !" 

“A moment," sez the doctor. “You hev an aged parent 
under the ruff?" 

“Yes," sez Mr. P. 

“ He’s pious?" 

“Yes, sir." 

‘ ‘ And has made a will ?" 

“Well, yes — so it’s understood," sez Mr. P. 

“There’s a plot agin him, tu," sez Mr. Meggs. 

“Horrors!" sez Mr. Perkins. 

“The assassin is to conceal himself in his room, wait until he 
sez his prayers, and then murder him and take his will, sez 
Mr. Meggs. 

They all shrieked. 

“Trewth," sez the doctor agin. 


“is stranger than fiction. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


187 


We owe this here discovery tu the lady next you — Miss Grinder, 
of Peekskill." 

‘ ^ How can we thank her V sez Mr. Perkins. 

'"Bless her forever!'' sez Miss P. 

"Jones and me is her devoted friends fur life," sez Miss Eve- 
liny. "But, oh ! may it not be tu late.?" 

"Well," sez the doctor. "The ringleader is guarded, and 
I'd advise gettin' a warrant and havin' him arrested. I'll go with 
you. " 

"Thank ye," sez Mr. P. 

So they went. Mr. Meggs staid to protect the house, and I 
went hum with Keturah. 

We found Mr. Tompkins guarding the door. 

"He slumbers yet," sez he, "little knowing his plot is frus- 
trated. " 

Then they all complimented me on my discernment, and 
pitied poor Keturah. 

In about an hour some police came over with Mr. Perkins 
and the doctor, and they woke Mr. Chalker up, arrested him, 
and walked him off. 

To-morrer I'm tu give evidence. I retire with the conscious- 
ness o' havin' dun my duty. I wish every one could say the 
same. 

♦ ^ ♦ ♦ :|c 3|C 5|C 

Morning — half-past eleven. 

What is the use o' doin' your duty ? you ain't never appre- 
ciated, This here mornin' convinces me o' that. 


i88 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


I went tu court with Keturah, and there I found Mr. Chalker 
and the other ruffian. They both was grinnin', and the white- 
headed old gentleman behind a desk was grinnin', tew, and the 
doctor and Mr. Meggs was lookin' womblecropt, and they turns 
on me, and sez one : 

‘^Miss Grinder was our authority." 

Yes," sez I. 'M'll take my afterdavid.” 

Sez the old gentleman : 

‘^You will, eh. Miss Grinder?" 

‘‘Yes," sez I. “Justice shill have its way." 

“It shill," sez he. “Well, now, ma'am, we want your evi- 
dence. How did you overhear the conversation between these 
two gentlemen ? Remember, you're on oath. " 

“Well," sez I, “I was in the pantry. I had suspicions, and 
I hid there." 

“That's what we heard," sez Mr. Chalker. 

“WeP," sez the old gentleman, “can you repeat the conver- 
sation ?" 

“The sense on’t," sez I. 

“Well," sez he. 

“Fust," sez I, “that ruffian said how't he didn't think Mr. 
Chalker’s plot was terrible enough, and that he wanted more tu 
do. And then Mr. Chalker said how't Eveliny Perkins young 
man was t a be kidnapped, and she made tu marry some one 
else. And then they decided how't one on 'em (that one) was 
tu hide in Gran'ther Perkins' room, and, whemhe kneeled down 
tu say his prayers, murder him, and take his will. ‘And then/ 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 189 

sez he, ^there’s nothin' tu do but tu pison Carlos, and stab his 
brother, and carry off Eveliny on her weddin’ ni j^t. ' " 

Sez the old gentleman, You will swear tu the name of Per- 
kins r 

''Well," sez I — no; I told Miss Kalsomine, and she said 
who it must be." 

I only heard 'em say Eveliny, and talk about her gran'ther. 

The hull of 'em laughed, and sez the old gentleman : 

"Miss Grinder, you've made a serious mistake. The Eveliny 
alluded to is the heroine of a play. This gentleman is a dra- 
matic author, and this one a manager and actor, who is to per- 
form the villain of the piece. It is not possible to proceed 
against you, sir," said the old gentleman, bowing to the other 
wretch; "though, indeed, the last time I witnessed your per- 
formance it was so true to nature that I felt inclined to issue a 
warrant for your arrest." 

Then every one laughed again. 

"You can go home," said the old gentleman. "We have no 
further need of you, Miss Grinder ; and pray reassure the Per- 
kins family." 

I bridles up, and sez I : 

"I trust no one is larfin' at me; and as for you," sez I, "I 
hev that opinion o' play actors that I hain't a doubt whatever 
you haven't done, you're bad enough for anything. I don’t be- 
lieve it's a play. I heerd you call it a plot." 

Then I pranced away with dignitude. 

Me and Keturah had a failin' out when we got hum, and I left 


190 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


her with disgust. There ain’t no use of bein’ a benefactor of 
the human rac^ — you ain’t appreciated. Ef I hed brought tew 
villains to justice I might a hed a monnyment erected to me in 
the City Hall Park ; but bein’ I made a mistake, I only got 
grinned at. Sich is life. But mark my words : Mr. Chalker 
will come to be hung yet. Nobody but a villain could wear his 
hair like a gorilla. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


191 


NUMBER TWENTY-THREE. 

TWO EPISTLES DROPPED INTO A CORNER LETTER-BOX. 

Letter First. 

New York, May 30th, 1866. 

Dear Piety : — I take up my pen in hand fur tu write you a 
few lines. Ever sense I came tu York I’ve intended tu write, 
but such a place is enough tu skeer all literary ideas from the 
most intilectable o’ minds, and what with the fixes you get intu 
continnerly, and the thievin’ critters and impostures, and the 
number o’ streets, and their distance apart, and the length o’ 
time it takes to go to places, and the number o’ cars that run 
the wrong way that you’re sure tu get in, I ain’t had time fur 
nothin’. Besides, I suppose you’ve heerd o’ Jonathan’s weddin’. 

/ Pie’s united in the matrimonial sittervation o’ life tu that critter, 
whose name I can’t mention, even on paper, such is my emo- 
tions — she ’twas brought up with principles o’ rectitude, and has 
turned out a viper, and knows how’t ’twouldn’t be consistent 
with my principles fur tu live tu Peekskill no longer. I’m purty 
well off, thank fortune, and kin live where I choose, and jest 
now I think I’ll stay tu York. 

I’m tu Amandy Floger’s pa’s, at present. I was there the fust 


192 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


of May, and rendered 'em considerable assistance in movin'. 
Dunno how they could hev got along without me. Mandy is 
young and don't take that there heartfelt interest in housekeepin' 
that we o' the age o’ approachin' maturity does. Her ma is de- 
ceased, you know, and she hain't had no partickerler bringin' 
up, only what her pa could give her, and men arn’t no great 
hands at fetchin' up o’ gals. She’s learnt fur tu play the pianny, 
and sing, and cetery ; but what’s accomplices tu a elderly man 
o' middle age.^ What he wants is a partner o' discretion, that 
can cook well, and save money. Seein' the late Miss Floger 
was took he’d orter have purvided himself with another. Time 
enough yet, though. It's better for tu show judltion in sech 
important, affairs. I’ve allers thought I'd never take the awful 
step o' selectin' a pardner before I was able to choose one that, 
to use a poetical expression, would wash and wear. 

Wouldn’t hev you mention it fur nuthin’. Piety, but Mr. Flo- 
ger is very partickerler in his intentions tu me. 

I feel tu be anxious that folks will pass remarks about me and 
insinnivate how't I want tu catch him ; but I can’t hurt his fcel- 
in's by leavin’ when he's so anxious fur me tu prolong my visit, 
even though Mandy Floger has behaved in a w^ay fur tu occasion 
me tu blush for her. 

I scorn tu listen, but I accidentally overheard her remark tu 
an aunt o’ hern that she ‘‘wished the old tiling would go.” 

“(9/t/ thing,” meant me, Piety. No matter. I don't say 
nuthin', but I’ll remember it. A pretty state o' things it has 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


193 


arrived at, when a young hity-tity critter calls a lady approachin' 
the age o' maturity an old thing. 

If ever I consent fur tu bless Mr. Floger with a return o’ his 
emotions o’ a tender natur, Mandy Floger shall be sent tu 
boardin’-school. 

Now, as I sits a writin’, I hear him a walkin' up and down 
his room, and groanin’. He has a interestin’ habit o’ groanin’ 
when the weekly bills comes in. No wonder, when things is 
wasted as they be, and Mandy dresses as she does. 

At this moment I haven’t a doubt. Piety Pratt, how’t he is 
thinkin’ tu himself o’ your friend and confidential Charity Grind- 
er. If I was his’n economics would be thought of beneath this 
ruff as they never will be while Mandy Floger is housekeeper. 
She has three jockeys, two bunnits, and no eend o’ dresses, and 
it’s my belief never sifts the cinders nor saves the drippin’s. 
Yesterday, as I handed Mr. Floger the sassages tu breaktwist, I 
thought o’ that, and sithed. He thought on’t, tew, I guess, fur 
he sithed back. Yesterday there was a button off his bosom. 
I remarked it. I’d like tu hev sewed it on ; but you know he 
might have took the liberty o’ kissin’ me ef I’d done it, and I’m 
the patron o’ perpriety, and allers hev been. I told Mandy so, 
and she said, needn’t be afraid.” Piety Pratt, I’d a good 
mind tu du it straight off, fur tu show her I had. 

It’s only silly critters. Piety, that considers how’t airly youth 
is the time fur sentiments o’ a tender nature. As Mr. Floger 
remarks, ‘‘A man never knov;s the real vally o’ a pardner until 


194 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


he’s had the rheumatics. It’s trew, Piety, ef one o’ the men sect 
did say it. 

I suppose, seein’ you ain’t acquainted with Mr. Floger, you 
can’t understand how my emotions toward the men sect has 
changed. But ef you knowed him. Piety, you’d understand 
that there is varieties in everything, and that there air men that, 
as fur as it is in the nature o’ the sect tu be, is near about as 
good as middlin’ nice wimmin — not many, but there air a few, 
and Mr. Floger is one o’ ’em. 

He’s thinkin’ o’ purchasin’ this house. I quite encourage 
him in the idee — it’s jest tu my mind. As soon as I can with 
perpriety go ahead in furnishin’, I shill have green velvet cheers 
bought, and a marble-top table fur the parlor. The late Miss 
Floger, that’s hangin’ on the wall over the manteltry, will have 
tu come down and go up attic, I guess, fur I want the place fur 
my own photography, the size o’ life, in a gilt frame, that I cal- 
kerlate Mr Floger will hev took in weddin’ costoom. 

Of course when I allude tu Miss Floger hangin’ on the wall I 
mean her pictur’. You might think Mr. F. was like Bluebeard 
ef I didn’t explain. 

She was a very respectable lady I haven’t a doubt — ef she 
hadn’t a been Mr. Floger wouldn’t hev hed her ; but I shouldn’t 
want her starin’ in my face perpetooal. Then Mandy should 
give up the best bedroom, and go in the back attic. Good 
enough fur a young critter o’ seventeen. I don’t calkerlate tu 
keep no help — make her stir round a bit and do her health 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


195 


good. She sleeps in old kids now, Piety, fur tu keep her hands 
white. 

As fur that aunt o' her'n, I don’t calkerlate she shill darken 
my ruff. She's displayed tew onchristian a sperit fur me tu con- 
taminate myself with her society; besides she’d allers make a 
patron o’ her late sister tu me. It’s the natur o’ relationships tu 
du so. 

Now, Piety, the minute he asks the question I shall write tu 
you tu be bride-maid. The last fashion-plate fur a bride in 
Godey’s is tu be my dress. I shill calkerlate on havin’ you stay 
a month, and shill invite Tabby Mouser along with you. I hate 
the critter like pison, but I’ve heerd say how’t she said ' ' Charity 
Grinder would never hev a chance tu change her name as long 
as she lived ef the men sect was o’ her opinion,” and seein’ how 
hard she’s tried and couldn’t. I’d like her tu be present at my 
nuptyals, and see the devotion o’ Mr. Floger. 

Ef I could I’d give her an invite without mentionin’ the occa- 
sion, so’t she wouldn’t get rigged up tu cut a dash, as she will 
ef she knows. 

You and she shall hev the back bedroom, on the second floor. 
That I shall keep fur spare. Mandy’s aunt sha’n’t come. 

You mustn’t tell nobody, but there’s one or two I’d as soon 
as not would find it out, Jonathan and his disgustin’ wife among 
’em. Them that’s allers on the lookout themselves thinks 
others would if they could, and is disappinted. 

Your affectionate confidential. 

Miss Charity Grinder. 


196 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


P. S.— Look at Godey's and see if you think the bride cos« 
toom is handsome. ' Charity Grinder. 

P. P. S. — Would you hev curls or bands C. G. 

Extra P. P. S. — I hear him groanin' agin. I know its the 
butcher s bill. My soul feels tu pity him. Next time I sign 

mebbe it won't be Charity Grinder, but Charity F . Spare 

my blushes, I can't konklude. 

Letter Second, 

New York, May 30th, 1866. 

Dear Brother Thomas : — Don't be alarmed when I tell you 
that unforeseen circumstances compel me to leave New York at 
once. I haven't murdered any one ; I haven't run off with any 
one's money — I haven't been trusted with any ; it isn't fear of 
the cholera ; it's something more dreadful than that epidemic, 
which I had far rather have than Miss Charity Grinder. It's out 
now, Thomas. It's a woman. If I don't leave New York she'll 
make me marry her. 

You arc a bachelor, Thomas.* You don't know what curtain 
lectures are. You don’t know what it is not to be allowed to 
smoke — to have some one always jealous of the housemaid. 
An angel couldn't induce me, and Miss Grinder is not an angel. 

You ask why I allow myself to be thus terrified. You don't 
know the woman. She is in my house. She rules the house- 
hold ; she snubs Amanda; she insults young Jones, to whom 
Amanda is engaged ; she makes love to me. Some day she will 
say I have proposed — perhaps will compel me to do so — and 
y^Wi marry me / 1 1 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


197 


I never was determined, firm, self-asserting — whatever you 
please to call it. I can’t say, ^‘Miss Grinder, you must go 
home.” Amanda daresn’t. Whenever I go out I have Miss 
Grinder on my arm. She sings off my hymn-book in church. 
People have said to Amanda, ''I hear your pa is about to give 
you a step-ma.” 

I can’t withstand the tide of public opinion. I can’t, as a 
gentleman — if Miss Grinder says, ‘‘Mr. Floger, will you have 
me ?” — say “No.” I must fly before she does it. You smile 
with scorn. Pity me ! I shall leave to-night, by stealth, like a 
burglar. I’m going to Boston. Tibbets has employed me to 
do some collecting. I want you to go down and shut up the 
office. The rent is paid a month in advance. Perhaps Miss 
Grinder may go in a month, and I may return. Watch the 
house and write me on the instant when that event occurs. 

I can’t save myself ; Amanda can’t save me. Brave as you 
are, you couldn’t, my dear brother Thomas. Already she has 
given away silverware and things to a person calling himself a 
confidential assistant ; sold my winter overcoat to a Jew, who 
gave her two pink vases for it ; scratched the lights out of the 
eyes of a portrait with a table-knife, under the impression they 
were spatters of whitewash ; kindled the fire with a very rare old 
edition of Shakespeare ; given a good girl — as girls go — warning 
without permission, and made me a red flannel dressing-gown, 
which she will make me wear every evening. 

A week ago she cooked a detestable mess for dinner, and on 
tasting it I involuntarily uttered an exclamation of disgust. 


198 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


'‘Is anything the matter?'' said she. 

Said I, not to be impolite, "A sudden pain, ma'am. It is 
over. " 

And then, oh ! Thomas, and then she scraped the chimney — 
the kitchen chimney — and made soot iea^ which she said was the 
onl^ remedy for symptoms of cholera. 

The more I declared I had none, the more she said I had, 
and at last muttered these awful words : 

"No, Mr. Floger; there ain't no use denying on't. You 
only don't want fur tu alarm your too susceptible Charity. Bu^ 
it's her duty fur tu take keer on you, and she'll du it.. Hold 
your pa's nose, Amandy, and I’ll make him swaller. " 

And the dear girl, whom she had alarmed concerning the 
cholera, did hold my nose, and I — swallowed — the — soot — tea I 
Augh 1 

May you never have such a mouthful ! 

You see, my dear brother, I must fly. Tell Amanda not to 
feel anxious, but don’t inform her where I am. Charity Grinder 
will have it out of her i' you do, and may follow me. 

It is eleven o'clock. I must go, if I would catch the train. 
My portmanteau is packed. Adieu until we meet. 

Your afflicted brother, Peter Floger. 

Capt. Thomas Floger, N. Y. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


199 


NUMBER TWENTY-FOUR. 

MISS CHARITY SPEAKS OF DENTISTS. 

No, Miss Dusenberry, I can't say as how I hev any pertick- 
eler faith in dentifrices. My belief is how't when Providence 
gives you the toothache, you've got to grin and bear it. 

How I talk ! you think you kin be saved most o' the pain by 
takin' your teeth in time? Ridiculous ! Why, I can prove tu 
the contrary by my cousin, Tiffany Briggs. Never heerd on 
him? Wall, I declare! He was considered a very talented 
young man — consid'rable above the rest o' the Brigges, in pint 
o' intelectability — took more arter me in that respect. 

Well, the rest on 'em was tinsmiths, and they calkerlated 
how't Tiffany would be glad to ketch hold and help, when he 
was old enough ; but, land o' liberty 1 he didn't take no sense o' 
the tin perfession. 

Sez he to his pa, '‘Pa," sez he, "it’s well enough for Ned 
and Dick to live among sarcepans, but I'm o' another natur'," 
sez he. 

"Lor'," sez his pa. "How in thunder did ye come by it?" 

"Dunno," sez Tiffany. "It was born in me — I can't stoop 
tu tins." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


too 


‘‘Well,” sez his pa, “seein' you ain't no airthly use in the 
shop, I’m willin' to humor ye, and ef you'd like to be a mason, 
there’s Plaster Brickman will take you 'prentice. ” 

“ Oh, '' sez Tiffany, groanin', “don’t jest, pa. These here 
leelin’s o' mine is tu holy. A mason, never 1” 

“Well, what then ?'' sez his pa. 

“ I’d like tu be a poet,” sez Tiffany. 

“You sha'n't I that's flat,” sez his pa. 

“Then I must be a learned perfession,” sez Tiffany. 

“Ef the tin line ain't that, what is?” sez Mr. Briggs. • 

“Well,” sez Tiffany, “you didn't comprehend, pa; there's 
but three learned perfessions — doctorin', preachin', and lawyer- 
in’.” 

“What du you know about any on 'em ?” sez B. 

“Well,” sez he, “ef I had a diplomy, I'd doctor.” 

“You desarve to be hung,” sez his pa. 

Jest then his ma comes in with the paper, and, bearin' what 
was goin' on, sez : 

“Why, land o' Goshen ! why don't you be a dentifrice ? Take 
a set o' lessons, and then sot up in Peekskill. It can’t take 
long, and you’d be called ‘ doctor.' ” 

Sez Tiffany, “I will, ma.” 

And next week he went tu York. He took six lessons, and 
came back perfect. He fetched along three big gold teeth to 
hang out, and a sign a yard long, and a lot o' gold leaf and wax, 
and purty soon twas all over town how't Tiffany Briggs was a 
graddyated dentifrice. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


201 


He was good-lookin’, fur a Briggs ; so it ’twarn’t long before 
every gal found out she hed suthin’ tu du tu her teeth, and Tif- 
fany had a run o’ bizness. The heft of ’em had the toothache 
reg’lar arter once goin’ tu him ; which I think was a judgment 
for not submittin’ in the fust place. 

Well, one day Melindy Jenks came in to me, and sez I : 

''How are ye, Melindy ?’* 

Sez she, ' ' Miserable T 

' ' Lor’, ” sez I, ' ' what ails ye ?” 

"A tooth,” sez she. "I spent a hull week in York tryin’ to 
hev it out. ” 

"Wouldn’t it come?” sez L 

"Well,” sez she, "the truth is, every dentist I went tu, the 
minnit I got into the cheer, away up in the air, and had my head 
well back, they weni and kissed me.” 

• ‘ All of ’em ?” sez 1. 4 

"Yes, ” sez she. ' ' Even an old sinner with gray hair. Then, 
of course, I wouldn’t stay. ” 

"Well,” sez I, 'Uhat comes o’ not hevin’ a person o’ digni- 
tude along fur tu purtect ye. Tell ye what, Melindy, you come 
to my Cousin Briggs, and I’ll sot by, and eff he was so inclined, 
he wouldn’t durst kiss ye.” 

Sez she, ' ‘ I’ll go, and thank ye 

And we went. 

Well, there was Tiffany, with a mustache half a yard long ; 
and he purtended tu take airs and graces, and fur tu doubt 
whether he hed time fur another patient. I stopped him short. 


202 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Jest get Melindy s tooth out,'" sez 1. ‘‘The hull o' Peeks- 
kill ain’t a cornin’.” 

So he ground her up in a cheer, and took out a lot o’ instru- 
ments, and went toward her. 

She shut her mouth tight. 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ Ef ye don’t open your mouth I can’t extract your 
tooth. ” 

‘‘Oh,” sez she, “I know you’ll hurt.” 

“ I won’t,” sez he ; “ it’s rayther pleasant.” 

“Well,” sez she. 

She opens her mouth, and he puts in his thingumbob, and 
she yells. 

He takes it out. 

Sez she, “Is it over?” 

Sez he, “ It ain’t tetched.” 

She opens her mouth agin, and he^ pulls and she screeches, 
and out comes a tooth — a rale nice white one. 

Sez she, “Oh, you’ve made a mistake! I tried to speak, 
but you smothered me. It’s a wrong tooth I” 

So ’twas ; on the other side. 

So sez he, “ No matter,” sez he, “I can put it in agin.” 

“Will it grow.?” sez I. 

“Of course,” sez he ; “ like a weed.” 

So in he sticks it. 

“Which is the tooth?” sez he. 

“The black one.” sez she. 

So he grabs agin. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


203 


Out comes suthin'. 

Melindy kicks like mad. 

Sez she, It ain't right yet” 

‘‘Must be,” sez he. 

And, come tu see it, it wasn't 

So Tiffany plants it back and pulls. This time 'twas the 
right one, but only the top. 

He looks in, and sez he, “Well, that's all right” 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ It aches worse. ” 

“Well,” se»he, “you see there ain't nuthin' tu ketch hold 
of ; so I've got tu leave the root The tooth is out — it's only 
the root is there. Put hops tu your face, and I reckon you 
won't hev no trouble. ” 

“I hope not,” sez she. “Well, now, what du you tax?” 

“Well,” sez Tiffany, “seein' it's a friend o' Cousin Charity’s, 
I'll do it cheap. I've extracted three teeth — that's six dollars ; 
and then a dollar a piece fur puttin' the two you changed your 
mind about back — that's eight. ” 

Melindy paid it, and went hum. That night she had the aw- 
ful est fit o' neuralogy in the head, groaned and shrieked, and 
they had tu send fur the doctor. He gin her lots o' medicine, 
and bled her. Didn't du no good, though, and there she laid a 
week, 'most out of her mind. 

Seemed as ef she was a-goin', she suffered so. She wouldn't 
let no one come near her mouth, and couldn't eat nuthin'. 
Well, seein' she was so bad, they sent for most o the relation- 
ships, and 'mongst 'em came Aunt Peggy, from Prattsville. 


204 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


The minute she saw her, sez she : 

“Why, how the gal’s face is swelled 1" 

“It’s a sign o’ the wust,” sez I. 

“Nonsense!” sez she. “It’s a tooth. Where does it hurt 
you sez she. 

“My hull head,” sez Melindy. 

“Water on the brain,” sez I, whisperin'. “The doctor, he’s 
given her camelmile and kwinine, and he’s bled her, and all. 
Medicine’s o’ no avail.” 

Sez Aunt Peggy : • 

“Nonsense, Charity. Tell je it’s teeth; the wurst o’ tooth- 
aches seems to be all over ye. Open yer mouth, honey.” 

She opens her mouth. 

“How it’s swelled,” sez she. “ Can’t hardly see the teeth. 
But, land alive, Melindy, I never heerd o’ teeth mortifyin’. The 
tew next the eye-teeth looks like it.” 

Sez she, “ Oh, aunt, them’s what was put in agin.” 

So, arter that. Aunt Peggy had the hull story. She opens the 
windy wide, and looks at the teeth, and sez she : 

“The nasty, good-for-nothing ignoramus. Dentist! Why, 

; he’s a butcher !” 

“Eh?” sez I. “You’re speakin’ o’ a relationship o’ mine. 
Miss Peggy, I’d hev ye know.” 

Sez she, “I don’t care. Send for the doctor this minnit. ” 

And I was skeered, and sent little Tom, for Aunt Peggy was 
a smart woman, and I knew it. 

“ What has he done ?” sez J. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


205 


sez she, '^fustly, left the tooth that ached in.” 

‘^Only the root,” sez 1. 

‘‘Bah,” sez she. “Then he's put the other two back — up 
side down — and the flesh has swelled 'round 'em, and fastened 
'em tight as wax. ” 

Melindy begins to cry. “Air you sure ?” sez she. 

“Yes,” sez Aunt Peggy. “There's the roots stickin up — 
look for yerself. Miss Grinder. ” Wall, she was right. 

Old Doctor Doseum he came, and he lanced the gums, and 
pulled out the teeth ; and, as soon as she could bear it, took 
out the root. And Aunt Peggy poulticed, and bathed, and 
fed Melindy up, and pitched out the rest o' the camelmile and 
kwinine, and Melindy was well in a week. 

Her pa called on Cousin Tiffany, and when he heerd what 
had occurred, he offered tu give back the tew dollars for plantin' 
the teeth, seein' they was in upside down. 

The old gentleman took it ; but he didn't act with dignitude, 
and offered tu kick Cousin Tiffany, and called him a lot o' 
names. The families warn't friends from ihat minute. 

So, you see. Miss Dusenberry, I hain't no faith in these here 
dentifrices. 

Cousin Tiffany graddyated in a course o' six lessons, and had 
all that was required to use in his perfession, and he didn't du 
Melindy no good. It's goin' agin Providence, and won't be 
blest; though Tiffany is practicin' yet a few miles out o’ Peeks- 
kill, and they do say there never was such an awful place for 
toothache as them parts is. 


206 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


NUMBER TWENTY-FIVE. 

CHARITY DISCOVERS MORE INIQUITY. 

I never had no aynomosity agin Dorinda Sniffin. Td scorn it 
Let them hev feelin’s o' that natur' that ain’t above it, and doii*’t 
allude it to me. Ef she says I had any inclination fur tu avail 
myself o' the intentions o' Mandy's pa, I won't tell her she lies, 
only that she's mistook. But ef she ain't no more of a lady 
than tu say how’t I meant “tu catch him," I'm obligated as a 
rectangular person and a member tu tell her that it's a falsehood. 
Me that had ruther be a vestal virgin than a Benedictine any 
day. 

Kevin’ writ so much for the public o' late, I feel myself quite 
fetched before the world and called upon tu defend myself from 
such objurations. Otherwise I'd retire with the usual dignitude 
o' my character, without a word. Seein' as things is as they be, 
though, I feel obligated tu state the reasons why I wouldn’t hev 
Mandy's pa fur nothin' the Garden o' Eden couldn’t offer, let 
alone a miserable muddy world o' woe. Fustly : He is Mandy's 
pa ; and bein', I feel tu regret that Mandy is sure tu turn out 
awful. I shouldn't like folks tu allude her eend tu her step-ma, 
as they'd be sure tu. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


207 


Secondly : I might hev had him ef I would, and IVe said a 
dozen times tu him, when he sithed and looked tender, and told 
me how blest his existence had orter be ef he possessed my 
hand. 

“No, sir, I couldn't think o' enterin' intu conjugular rela- 
tions with a widiwer. Abandon the idee," sez I, “and forgit 
Charity Grinder." 

He couldn't, poor man, and he's flowed. 

Fustly — I mean thirdly — he's old enough to be my pa, and he 
\vears a wig, and his opinions doesn't coinsist with mine. And 
thems the Reasons I didn't hev him, not because I couldn't 
catch him. Dorinda Sniffin judges by herself. 

I didn't mean to drive him out o' his senses. F’raps ef I'd a 
known the effect my conduct would hev I shouldn't ha' been so 
obdurate in my declension o' him. But unless you hev the gift 
o' prophesy ye can't forsee events which is tu happen in the mor- 
tal world. I grieve tu ha' caused the absconsion of Mandy's 
pa ; but I couldn't give my hand where my heart hadn't went, 
and ef my refusal has driv him from his native land tu Bosting, 

I feel tu be sorry, but not to blame myself. As fur Dorinda 
Sniffin I pity and despise her. 

However, when yer life is spent in duin' acts o' benevolents, 
as mine is, it's easy tu forget them that is narrer-minded enough 
tu talk agin you ; and at present my mind is occupied with a 
young woman o' the name o’ Parten that lives jest opposite tu 
where I am stoppin' with Gusty Gulliver. 

Thc} re very nice people the Gullivers. She's fashionable, 


2o8 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


and he is suthin’ down town that makes him as mad as hops 
when things in the eatable way goes down. Someun told me he 
was a speculater, and whatever bizness that may be it appears tu 
be a tryin' one tu the temper. 

It's a good way up town, in a quite romantical spot near the 
North River. Folks as is addicted tu sentiment walk down to 
the banks o' pleasant evenin's ; but the muskeeters is, tu thick 
for me. I ginerally sit tu the winder observin' human nature ; 
and if there's one I’ve observed more'n another, it’s that Miss 
Parten. Firstly, she's dreadful hity-tity, and thinks herself 
good-lookin', and nextly, I have my suspicions how’^ she ain't 
all she should be. 

Well, I’ve kept my eye on her off and on, and remarked how 
late she sot up, and how she read novels a Sabberday ; and so 
when I heerd anything peculiar I was apt tu take notice. 

One night I did. 'Twas a kind o' wailin' cry. I got up and 
peeked out o’ my windy, and there, sure enough, was a light in 
Miss Parten’s, and I heerd her voice a-talkin’. 'Twas a very 
handsome night, and eveiybody’s sashes was up. 

Sez she, “The thing is sick, or it 'twouldn't yell so." 

Sez the masculine voice o' Mr. Parten, “Mebbe 'tain t bin 
fed." 

Sex she, “It has. I won't be bothered this here way forever. 
I'll get rid o' the plague." 

Sez he, “You can't." 

Sez she, “I will, if I have this to bear agin." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


209. 

And then I heerd a kind o* whacking sound, and all was si-, 
lent 

'Bout an hour arter it begun, though, and then I knowcd 'twas 
the voice o' a child. The poor creeter kept it up all night — 
sich moans and screeches I never heerd. They continued until 
the dawn o' day. I'd heerd o' unnat'ral parents, but never o' 
any so unnat'ral as the Partens. 

Next day I felt it my duty tu keep an eye on 'em. He was 
goin' somewhere with a portmantel, and she staid tu hum. 
The hull day I heerd the cries of the neglected infant, and in 
the evenin' they was worse. At last I retired tu bed and sunk 
into a agitated slumber. 

About ten I was awoke by a light on my ceilin'. I seen at 
once how 'twas Miss Parten movin' a lamp. I jumped up and 
went tu the winder. There was a light in her chamber, and she 
was standin' there with a basket in her hand a-tyin' down the 
cover after puttin' in a brickbat. My blood froze in a minute ; 

I knew what she was a doin'. It all rushed on me like a whirl- 
wind ; and when I seen her put on a hat and shawl and come 
cut o' her door, I thought I should keel over. 

But the presence o' mind I'm remarkable for come tu my aid, 
and I seized a quilt petticut o' mine and a shawl, and put 'em 
on, and rushed down tu the Gullivers' room. 

I knocked in a agitated manner, and sez she> ‘‘What's the 
matter ?" 

Sez I, “It ain't for no common thing I'm summoning you 


no 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


at this disrespectable hour. But it's your duty to wake Mr. Gul- 
liver immediate. " 

They was skeered at that, and out in the entry in a minute. 

''Du you want to be humble instrument o' preventin' parra- 
cide ?" sez I. 

"Yes, " sez he, "of course. " 

"Then," sez I, 'Toiler me. The young woman opposite 
has jest put a new-born infant in a basket along with a brickbat, 
and is goin’ tu the river tu drown it." 

"What du I hear?" sez he. 

"The solemn truth," sez I. 

Sez he, "There* ain't no time to be lost." So he gets his hat 
and things, and we all three went down stairs. 

"You tew go on and watch her," sez Mr. Gulliver. "I'll 
bring a policeman and away he scoots, and we tew, purtected 
by our consciousness o' doin' our duty, went on alone. 

The young woman wasn’t in no hurry, but she was goin’ tu 
the river straight. 

Sez I tu Miss Gulliver : 

"Could you imagine there was sich iniquity in the world ?" 

Sez she, "Yes; and so could you if you'd took the New 
York papers as long as I have. " 

Jest then I held up my hand for silence, for we was close be- 
side her, and she was goin' ontu the wharf. 

Jest then, tew, we observed Mr. Gulliver fetchin' a policeman 
around the corner. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


211 


We went a leetle nearer, and she stopped. She sots the bas- 
ket down, and sez she, out loud : 

' ‘ I don’t half like it, poor little wretch. It’s got to be done, 
though. ” 

Then she picks up the basket and swings it, and sez she : 

' ‘ Here goes then ” 

But I caught her gownd, and Miss Gulliver screeched, and 
the policeman and Mr. Gulliver rushed up and caught her. 

Sez she, ‘‘Oh dear! oh dear! Help! murder! thieves! 
Oh!” 

Sez the policeman, '‘None of that, young woman; 'twon't 
save you. ” 

Sez she, “Oh, let me go !” 

Sez he, “When I get you to the station-house.” 

Sez she, “You ain’t arrestin’ me?” 

Sez he, “Don’t play innocent.” 

Sez she, “Oh ! where is Mr. Parten? Why ain’t he here tu 
purtect me ?” 

Sez I, “Nothin’ won’t purtect you, you parracide. You’re 
caught in the act. Poor little critter ! a minute more you’d a 
ended its life. Give me the basket.” 

“Lor’,” sez she, “all this fuss ain’t about this?” 

Sez I, “You wretch !” 

Sez Mr. Gulliver, “You fiend !” 

Sez Miss Gulliver, “You onnat’ral relative !” 

Sez the policeman, “There’ll be a little more fuss yet I 


212 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


never seen anybody take it so cool as you. Du you know the 
penalty V’ 

‘^No/' sez she. ‘*Du you belong to the Humane Society?'' 

‘‘No," sez I. “But we are able to prevent depravity o’ this 
nature. We ain't a-goin' tu stand by and see a young creeter 
murdered. " 

“Well," sez she, “the thing was sick." 

“You’d orter cared the more for it," sez Miss Gulliver. 

‘ ‘ And kept me awake nights, " sez she. 

“Walk along," sez the policeman. 

Sez she, “You've no right to use me so." 

Sez I, “How hev you used your child?" 

‘ ‘ My child ?" sez she. ‘ ‘ I haven’t one. " 

“ No, " sez I, ‘ ‘ p'raps not by this time. It may be smothered. 
Untie the strings. Miss Gulliver." 

“Smothered?" sez she. 

“Yes," sez I, “it may be." 

She stares, and sez she : 

“I beg your pardon, ma'am, but what du you think is in the 
basket ?" 

“Your murdered infant !" sez I. 

“Gracious goodness I" sez she. “You ridiculous old thing." 

Sez the policeman, “Of all hardened women, you beat." 

Sez Miss Gulliver, “I've got the basket open, and the poor 
little thing is inside. It’s quite naked, but it's alive, for it 
moves. Ohl" sez she, “it’s g3tt:n' up!" and sho scrccclics. 

Jest then we came under a street-lamp, and we ail stopped. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


213 


The light was bright, and we all saw the baby give a jump, and 
rise up on all fours. 

It was naked, and as white as a ghost. 

I screeched, and Mr. Gulliver jest caught it in time tu save it 
from failin' tu the ground out o' the basket. 

'' Heavens and earth I" sez he. ‘Ht's " 

‘ ' Dead ?" sez I. 

‘ ' No, " sez he. ‘ ' It ain't a baby at all. It's a Newfoundland 
pup. What a confounded set of fools we have been. If ever I 
listen to a word a woman says, may I be shot. " 

Well, sure enough, it was a pup, and instead o' turnin' tu me, 
as they ought, and sayin', Miss Grinder, your intentions was 
the best, though unforeseen circumstances prevents them from 
succeedin'," they sot tew apologize tu Miss Parten. 

I didn’t wait tu hear 'em ; I jest turned away and proceeded 
home with dignitude, and tu-day I'm goin tu take up my quar- 
ters elsewhere. The Gullivers air not congenial, and though I 
wish 'em well, I don't enjoy myself. 


214 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER TWENTY-SIX. 

CHARITY IS THE CAUSE OF A DUEL. 

As a gineral thing I don't consider how't a boardin'-house is 
proper fur a lady that ain't as yet united intu the holy bonds o' 
matrimony, but I’ve been obligated tu go tu one. There's a 
nat’ral unhosperbility in Yorkers, and jest at present the heft o' 
them I know is tu mad tu stop with, anyway, so Ive took board. 
It's very agreeable here, and there's several gentlemen o' the 
greatest intilectability. The only fault I find with 'em is they 
will be so pinted in their intentions tu me. Can't so much as 
look at the salt but they parse it, and as fur butter. I've hed tew 
plates offered me at once. Not that the landlady would hev 
none handed tu nobody ef she could help it, I do believe. Tew 
the right o' me sets Perfesser Huffin, and tu the left there's 
Doctor Optic, and oppersite there's a very fine elderly gentleman 
of the name of Mister Brown, Esquire — I seen it on a letter, 
and oilers make use o' the titles, though the rest don't; and 
them three is each tryin' tu cut the other out. Makes me quite 
confused, sometimes, and the landlady, Miss Butler, hoppin' 
mad. You see, like the heft o' widdys, she sottin' her cap fur 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


ziS 


anybody she kin get, and wants tu keep the hull o' their inten- 
tions for herself. 

Things hed gone on in this here way a considerable time, 
when one day we sot down tu dinner as usual, and got a-talkin 
o' the weather. 

^‘Amazin' cold for this time o' the year," sez the perfesser. 

''Very," sez the doctor. 

"Good nights fur sleepin'," sez Mr. Brown, Esquire. 

"Sleep, " sez the perfesser. "There's no sleep, cold or warm, 
fur the cats. Minute I retire," sez he, "tew seek kind Natur's 
sweet disturber, that minute they begin tu howl. " 

"It is awful!" sez Miss Butler, puttin' in her oar. "Poor 
Miss Jennings and famerly didn’t rest at all, they say." 

"It’s infamous!" sez the perfesser, handing round the bread. 

There was tew dishes on the table, and it so happened, jest as 
he handed me his'n, Mr. Brown, Esquire, handed me one from 
the other side. 

Now I was in a diplomy — ^you may imagine. Ef I took the 
perfesser s, why, nat'rally. I’d offend Mr. Brown, Esquire. 

"La," sez I, my heart palpitatin', though I strove tu conceal 
it "La ! I’m forehanded fur bread — dunno which tew take." 

"Mine is the nearest," sez the perfesser. 

"So it air," sez I, and helped myself. "Obligated all the 
samt in you, Mr. Brown, Esq.," sez I. 

He looked smilin', but I knowed how’t he hed a command o’ 
countenance, and was able fur tu dissimerlate. 


2i6 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


There was more talk about the cats and things arter that, and 
then some about the high prices, and when they’d come down. 

‘‘Peas is exorbiant,” sez Miss Butler, “and as fur grass, you'd 
be astonished tu know how much it comes tew, and I’m sure 
they only put a quart in their half pecks nowadays." 

“I should think so," sez I. “You must be cheated awful, 
Miss Butler ; the taters didn’t more’n go round once. " 

She turns up her nose, and speaks to the waiter gal, and she 
fetched in the pie — about tew inches tew each head of boarders, 
and a fork as big as a pitchfork to pick it up with. 

The perfesser made tew bites o’ his’n, but the doctor jest swal- 
lowed his at one. He eats purty quick, because he’s in a hurry 
tew get back tew his room, on account o’ a book on the causes 
o’ dispepsy he’s writin’. 

Well, he hurried off, but Mr. Brown, Esq., and the perfesser 
lingered tew the last. 

We’d left the table, and I was lookin’ out o’ the windy, when 
I heerd the fust-named gentleman say : 

“Perfesser, may I hev a moment o’ conversation with you?" 

‘'Sartainly, sir,” sez the perfesser, and in a minute I began to 
guess what was goin’ on. 

I seen ’em go tew the balcony, and I follered. Nat’ rally I 
was obliged tew wait a minute before I concealed myself in the 
curtings, so I lost the fust o’ the conversation. But I heerd 
enough, as it was. 

The fust words I remember was these : 

“You agree then, sir?" 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


217 


"‘Delighted, Fm sure,” sez the perfesser. 

“Fm a good shot,” sez Mr. Brown, Esq. 

“So am /,” sez the perfesser. “Dew you prefer a Minie rifle 
or a revolver ?” 

“A revolver,” sez Mr. Brown, Esq. 

“Fll take the rifle,” sez the perfesser. 

“Well, at eleven, then. You'll meet me here?” 

“Punctually,” sez Mr. Brown, Esq. 

And the tew dispersed, leavin' me in a swoondin' condition 
under the curtings. 

“What shill I dew?” sez I. “Fervent it, if possible, but 
heow ?” 

Twas sartain Miss Butler warn't a pertickeler friend o' mine, 
but it warn't likely she'd be willin' tew hev a duel in her house ; 
and, at last, I concluded tew confide in her. The day was 
drawin' tew a close, and no time was tew be lost. 

Jest as the clock struck nine, I went intu the dining-room, 
where she was mixin' fritters, and sez I : 

“Miss Butler, Fve got suthin' tew tell you.” 

“Tew tell sez she. 

“ Yes, 'm,” sez I. “It is an affair o' the utmost importance, 
or I wouldn't hev troubled you.” 

“'Tain't bugs, is it.?” sez she. 

“No,” sez I. “Them I can't come tew speak of, whatever 
I may feel." 

“You ain't gettin' cholera, I hope,” sez she. “Because this 
house ain't a hospital, and I wouldn't want it burned down, and 


2i8 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


my boarders would leave me if I was put into tents and barri- 
caded." 

‘'lam puffectly salubrious, ma'am, " sez I. 

“Well," sez she, “what is it?" 

“A affair o' bloodshed," sez I. 

“ Hey?" sez she. 

“Adewel," sez I. 

“A dewel?" sez she. 

“Yes," sez I. “Don't ask me who is the unhappy cause ; 
but tew o' your boarders has quarreled, and a dewel is the con- 
sequence." 

“ Dewels ain't fought nowadays," sez she. 

Sez I; “I heerd the app'ntment. At table, Mr. Brown, Es- 
quire, and the perfesser both parsed the same lady, whose name 
I needn't mention, a plate o' bread. From that has ariz a quar- 
rel o' a fearful natur', and they are goin tew fight — him with a 
revolver, and the perfesser with a gun. 

“When?" sez she. 

“At eleven tu-night, on the balcony," sez I. 

“The old fools !" sez she. 

“Lor'!" sez I, “no such great fools. They consider how't 
their affections has been trifled with. " 

“Bother!" sez she. “The perfesser owes me tew weeks’ 
board. We must tell Doctor Optic, and get advice. Of course, 
if we told 'em beforehand, they'd do it somewhere else. I dew 
think they're crazy. They must hev quarreled about suthin' 
more important." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


219 


Sez I, ‘‘I wish I could think so, Miss Butler/' 

Then I sighed.’ 

''Ruining a respectable boardin'-house, " sez she. "/won't 
hev it. People putting their lives in danger, while they owe me 
tew weeks' board." 

Then she jest pulled down her sleeves, and we ran up tew the 
doctor's room. There we told him the whole story. 

He wouldn't believe it at first. Then he said how 'twas a 
joke. 

" 'Twouldn't do to accuse 'em of it," he said. "It's ridicu- 
lous." 

"Well," sez I, tell you what ; there's a pantry in the din- 
in'-room ; let us three go in there and watch. Ef they don’t 
come, we're mistook. Ef they do, we'll prevent bloodshed. " 

Sez Miss Butler, "That's a very good plan but, jest as she 
said that, the door-bell rang, and there come a message how't 
her married daughter Perliny had got a heir, and she was tu come 
and dress it. 

"Lor'," sez she, "I've got tew go; but here's the key o' 
the pantry. You and the doctor kin watch as well as me. 
Mind, it locks outside. " 

Well, I took the keys, and as it was gettin' on, me and the 
doctor went down at once ; we didn't take a light, and it was 
purty dark, but we unlocked the pantry and went in. I was 
fur leavin' the door open, but the doctor shut it tew avoid obser- 
vation. 

Well, we waited about an hour, and at the eend o' that time 


220 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


there was a noise — footsteps a-comin' down stairs. Next min- 
ute I heerd the perfesser s voice. 

^‘Mr. Brown,” sez he, ^ ^ here’s the revolver. ” 

“Thank you, sir,” sez Mr. Brown, Esq. 

“You are right, after all,” sez the doctor. “Gracious 
heavens, what a pair of idiots ! Open the door, please, Miss 
Grinder. 

“I can’t find the handle,” sez 

“ Neither can I,” sez he. 

Then the truth flashed onto me. 

“Doctor,” sez I, “this here is one o them locks only onto 
one side. We can’t get out.” 

“You’re right,” sez he. “We’re in a trap.” 

“We can’t prevent the dewel,” sez I. “They’re at it now. 
Kick, doctor. ” 

“’Tain’t any use,” sez the doctor; “ it’s unpossible tew git 
out.” 

Just then suthin’ went “bang!” 

“They’re shootin’,” sez I. 

“Great goodness 1 yes,” sez the doctor. 

Bang went suthin’ else. 

“That’s the rifle,” sez the doctor. 

And the perfesser’s voice was heerd : 

“ I’ve shot him — through the head.” 

“He’s murdered Mr. Brown, Esq.,” sez I. 

“ Help 1” yells the doctor. 

“Murder!” sez I. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


221 


‘‘Fire I'’ sez the doctor. 

“Murder! murder I murder! Thieves!” sez I. “Perfesser 
has shot Mr. Brown, Esq. f Help 1 help !” 

We heerd the boarders rushin’ about. Soon they was down 
stairs. 

“Where air they?” sez one. 

“ Where air they?” sez another. 

‘ ‘ In here, ” sez somebody. 

And they pulled the pantry door open. Then the hull horror 
o' our sittuvation rushed upon me. 

“What's the matter?” sez one. 

“Oh, its Miss Grinder,” sez another. 

Sez the doctor : 

“Friends, this ain't no time to explain. Murder has been 
done. Perfesser Huffin has assassernated Mr. Brown.” 

“And me the afflicted cause,” sez I. “Why didn’t I take 
tew breads?” 

The ladies was faintin', the gentlemen standin' stock-still, and 
me a-wringin' my hands, when the windy opens, and in walks 
the perfesser with his rifle. 

“Apprehend the murderer !” sez the doctor. 

But nobody liked tew tech him for fear he'd fire. 

He looks round, and sez : 

“What on airth !” 

“ Ah !” sez the doctor, “don't dissemble, villain !” 

“You’ve shot him,” sez 1. “We heerd you.” 

Sez he : hope I hev.” 


222 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


** Wretch sez the doctor. 

''Yes/' sez he, "through the head. He'll not trouble me 
again. " 

" Don't think I shall favor your intentions," sez I. "No; 
Charity Grinder is not to be won thus." 

" Hey !" sez he. " He warn't yours — was he?" 

"Sir !" sez 1. 

"Arrest the. murderer !" sez the doctor. 

The perfesser stares. Jest then the winder opens again, and 
in comes Mr. Brown, Esq., with tew cats by the tails — -one 
black, and one gray. 

"Land o' liberty !" sez he. "Didn't expect so much company. 
But, since you're here, this is the perfesser's, and this mine. 
We'll hev some sleep now, I reckon. " 

Sez the doctor : ' ' Did you come down here tew shoot cats /' 

"Yes," sez he. "Don't you see 'em ?" 

"Miss Grinder informed me — — " sez the doctor. 

But I didn't wait tew hear no more. I flowed tew my room, 
and this mornin' am about tew leave. Arter the remarks that 
has been made about me, my dignitude demands that I should 
go. 

P. S. — Couldn't the society fur the development o' cruelty to 
animals do nothin' about the shootin' o’ thim cats? I'd like to 
hev the perfesser and Mr. Brown, Esquire, hung for it if I could. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


223 


NUMBER TWENTY-SEVEN. 

CHARITY REVEALS A FAMILY SECRET. 

He, he, he ! Here I am, Samanthy. Don't you go to run- 
nin' away. Tain't no stranger — only me. I hate bein' stiff 
and ceremonious, so I jest come in the back hitching way, with- 
out knocking. Don't ye make any company o' me. A plate 
o' milk-toast, or strawberry short-cake, or an om light, or any- 
thin' you happen to toss up will do for lunch. I alius make a 
p'int o' takin' that at a friend's. These here restorationers cheat 
so. Land o' liberty ! they charge all creation fur a couple o' 
bites, and restoration vittles kinder seems to leave you empty ; 
besides, you come under the observation o' the men sect, which 
has a habit o' starin' at persons o' a prepossessin' appearance, 
even if they air approachin' matoority. 

Washin', hey.? How yaller your things hev got. But playin' 
the pianner and crotcheting don't make good workin' hands. 

Well, I hain't seen ye sence you was about thirteen, I should 
say. You don’t favor your age — kinder scraggy and yaller you've 
got. But them that marries early ginerally shows it. Singular 
blessedness fur me, unless me and my pardner was congenial. 

You hope you and Simeon air? Oh, well, I don't say bu^ 


224 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


what you he — only folks are allers askin' me how on airth you 
caught him. 

Didn’t hev to ketch, hey? So I allers say. Sez I, ‘'S’posin’ 
I’d made up my mind to hev any one. Sim Slum would have 
been the last. Fustly, his hair is most on’t gone, and next his 
legs is bow ; and then the pecooliarity o’ his sittiwation would 
ha’ deterred a lady o’ my delicacy o’ feelin’ from unitin’ with 
him. 

What pecooliarity ? Never knowed nothin’, eh ? Why, good 

gracious ! there’s a’most an awtul secret connected with the birth 

« 

o’ your pardner. Sence he hasn’t told it, probably I’m indis- 
criminate in alludin’ tu it I sha’n’t say nothin’ more. Don’t 
urge me. Pass me the cold mutton, please, and the salt 

You mustVxiOVj} Why, marsy me! I wouldn’t hev spoke ef 
I’d a-thought— though ’twas pecooliar fur tu take a pardner with- 
out tellin’ her. Your husband. Miss Slum, dunno tu this day 
whether he’s his own uncle or his own nephew. 

Am I crazy? Law, no! Jest keep up your sperits and I’ll 
tell ye. 

Old Grand’ther Slum lost his fust wife airly, you know, and 
him and his son Eben, they kep’ bachelder’s hall'together, until 
Eben was thirty. Then he took and got married to a widdy 
with a grown gal o’ sixteen. He did it unbeknownst to grand’- 
ther, and the old gentleman was hoppin’ mad. 

Sez he, ‘H’ll punish him for it, ef I kin,” and the way he 
took was to marry the widdy ’s darter. 

He punished himself the worst, for she led him a awful life — 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


225 


was one them critters that would go out — and he was so jeal- 
ous he allers went with her, rheumatics or not. Finally it killed 
him — hain’t a doubt. That ain't the story, though. 

Well, the two couple wouldn't speak for awhile, but in a year 
or so they made up, and went to live in his own house — grand’- 
ther's, I mean — away at the eend o' Peekskill. There they staid. 

Well, one night I was stayin' with Miss Doctor Kobbles — she 
was a friend o' mine — when some one flies up the steps and 
bangs the knocker, and sez he, when we looks out : 

‘'Doctor Kobbles in?*' 

Sez Miss Kobbles, “No," sez she. “Where is it?" 

“The senior Mr, Slum's," sez he. 

“Well," sez she, “what a pity he's out I I’ll come," and 
off she went in a hurry. 

A few minutes arter the bell rung agin. 

I went tu the door. 

“Docter in?" sez a voice. 

“No," sez I, “but he’s expected. Where is it?" 

“Well," sez he, “ it’s at the junior Mr. Slums." 

Sez I, “/// come, and leave word for the doctor," and over 
I went. 

Well, two such handsome babies I never saw — you know ugly 
people is said to be handsome babies ginerally — a couple o' 
most beautiful boys. Me and Miss Kobbles dressed 'em like 
picters, and put 'em side by side in the crib together. 

“Ain’t they like twins?" sez she. 

‘ ‘ Indeed they are, " sez I. 


226 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


And then, bein' exhausted with the excitement, we jest sot 
down and had a glass o' toddy. Not as a beveridge — me and 
Miss Kobble was above takin' it that way — but as a medicine. 

There was some cake, tu, and we eat that, and talked and 
rocked, and had a comfortable time, until some one knocked at 
the door, and in comes the two pas. 

Sez old Mr. Slum, in a huriy, ‘‘Nice boy, eh? Look like 
me?" 

“Law, yes," sez I “The image." 

Sez Mr. Slum, junior, “How about mine?" 

“Well, he favors his ma," sez Miss Kobbles. 

“They're both beauties," sez 1. 

Just then in comes the doctor. 

“The finest children /ever saw," sez he. 

“And the senior Mr. Slum's looks like him, don't he, doc- 
tor?" sez Miss Kobbles. 

“Precisely," sez the doctor. 

“And the junior Mr. Slum's — hes the image o' Miss Slum, 
hain't he?" sez 1. 

“Such a likeness / never knew," sez the doctor. 

Well, Mr. Slum, junior, looked pleased, and Mr. Slum, 
senior, a little taller than before ; and finally he walks up to the 
cradle, and sez he : 

“Well, now, this — ah, yes — this — ahem — which is mine, 
Miss Kobbles ?" 

She turns red as a beet, and sez she : 

“Law, as if you didn't know ! Tell him. Charity." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


227 


Sez I, ‘‘I sha’n’t. Let him guess.” 

‘‘Well,” sez she, “ doctor, tell him.” 

“I don't know myself, my dear,” sez the doctor. 

Sez she, “ Massy me !” 

Sez I, “Don't tell me. Miss Kobbles, how’iyouve forgot !” 

Sez she, “Don't s2iyyou hev. Charity.” 

I sot down onto a cheer, and couldn't speak. I didn't know 
which was which any more'n the rest did ; and what's more I 
never did know, and never expect to. 

Mr. Slum, junior, stood and stared. Mr. Slum, senior, pulled 
ontu his hair. 

“Tell me which is my child,” sez he. 

Sez I, “I can't. ” 

Sez Doctor Kobbles, “/can't. Perhaps instinct may leach 

“Instinct be bothered,” sez Mr. Slum. “Tell me which is 
my offspring.” 

“It's past the power o' man, unless the clothes is marked,” 
sez the doctor. 

Sez I, “ We'll find out by them.” 

But come tu look they were mixed up, tu. Some o' one's on 
this, and some o' t others on that. 

Well, Mr. Slum, senior, tore his hair, and pounded his head 
until he skeered us ; and Mr. Slum, junior, sez : 

“ Pa, sence it can't be helped, make the best on't. One baby 
is the same as another, a'most. ” 

Sez the old gentleman ; 


228 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘The same! Why, Eben Slum, air you distracted? How 
will my unhappy child ever know whether he’s his own uncle or 
own nephew? That’s the awful consequence o’ this mixin’. 
He’ll never know his proper relationship tu his own famerly.” 

“Never thought o’ that, par,” itz Mr. Slum, junior. “What 
shill we du ?” 

There wam’t nuthin’ tu be done, only fetch ’em up. 

But old Mr. Slum told Dr. Robbies how’t he’d intended fortu 
disinherit Eben, and leave the heft o’ the property tu this child, 
and now ’twarn’t no use, because he might be makin’ a mistake 
and disinheritin’ his own child for Eben’s. 

Then jest consider the poor Miss Slums’ state o’ mind. Miss 
Eben Slum might be nursin’ her own half-brother and brother- 
in-law, instead o’ her son. And Miss Slum, senior, might fetch 
up her step-grandson, instead o’ her own heir. Then what on 
airth was tu be done when they was christened ? 

’Twas a house o’ mournin’ for a spell, and the reporters from 
the ‘ ‘ Peekskill Budjet o’ News ” came down to find out about 
it, and hev the babies’ fotographs. 

Poor, dear Miss Slums ; they didn’t know which to take nor 
how tu choose. 

Fust week they divided ’em round, and then ’twas discovered 
that the one Miss Eben Slum had was goin’ to hev black hair, ^ 
and must be Miss Slum’s the senior, for Mr. Slum the senior 
was dark. Next week the black hair rubbed off, and growed in 
red, and they changed back, for Eben had red hair. Finally it 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


229 


was discovered how’t the red-haired one was goin' to hev a hor- 
rid big mouth, and Miss Slum, junior, would change back again 
And so it kept on. 

Finally one turned out so pretty that both insisted he was 
their n. That, of course, warn’t your Simeon. Then they sot 
em on the floor tu see which they'd creep tu, and decide by 
that ; and then there was a heap o' changin', for they went dif- 
ferent every time ; and at last whenever one cried very hard,, 
that one’s* pa would change him, if 'twas the middle o’ the night, 
feelin' sure how’t the yellin’ one warn't his’n by the natur' o' his 
feelin’ toward it. 


Poor Miss Slum, junior, said she couldn't get no rest at nights, 
it got to be so bad at last. 

Well, so it went on when they went to school. If one was 
ahead o' his class, both mas claimed him. Ef one had the 
hoopincough, both mas was sartin sure he warn't their'n, and 
finally they quarreled so that the husbands declared they'd 
stop it. 

So they did, somehow. Some say they turned up a cent, and 
others agin that they grabbed ’em up in the dark. But any 
way, at last they took 'em to be christened, and kept ’em after 
that as they was. * 

However, I don't believe they really knew, and it's as true as 
I set here, how't I couldn't tell if I was to die for it whether 
Simeon Slum is his own uncle or his own nephew. 


'Twarn't right o' hin) not to tell you. But don’t look so aw- 




230 THE GRINDER PAPERS. 

ful womblecropt — it’s a mercy, seein’ he’s so humbly, and don’t 
enjoy a good temper, that either would hev him. 

Pass the pie, please, and make my tea a bit sweeter, and then 
if you’ll lend me suthin’ you may jest souse this gownd intu 
your suds, for it needs doin’ up. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


231 


NUMBER TWENTY-EIGHT. 

CHARITY DISCOVERS A BURGLAR. 

York is a most an awful place. It takes a spell tu find out 
what the people be. When I fust arrived I used tu be contin- 
ooally imposed on tu. Hed my pocket picked, gin away silver 
tu a burgular, and was fur all the world like a poor innercent 
canary in a garret full o' cats. Hows'ever, I Ve gained experience 
now. And there's one advantage o' bein' o' the years o' ap- 
proachin' matoority — ^you dew gain experience. I know how 
tu judge York human nature the minnit I set eyes on 'em. 

These here young men with light kids, and colored neck-ties, 
and mustaches, and shiny tall hats — them's all pickpockets. 
And them big fellers with hats on the backs o’ their heads, gin- 
erally white ones, and their sleeves pulled up a bit, and nice, 
fat, white hands — they're card-playin' gambolers. And them 
young gals with jockeys and men's straw hats — they're female 
pickpockets. And them middlin'-aged wimmin, dressed up tu 
kill, are awful critters. And them rough sort o' men with holes 
in their elbers, and no neck-ties — they're highway burgulars. 
And the men in white cravats, that you'd take for clergymen — 
they are impostures. And the little children that come a beg- 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


232 

gin', are all little thieves ; and the heft o' the female help is 
thieves, and the heft o' the male help, murderers, and all tu- 
gether York is a dangerous place. 

I consider, 4iow't knowin’ this, I can’t be took in any more. 
A proof o' my penetration was in what happened last Wednes- 
day down to Machias Tibbs'. Why, hain’tyou heerd on’t.? Du 
tell ! Machias and me went tu school tugether, and he used tu 
be my little beau — warn't o' an intilectible dispersition, though, 
and not tu my taste, so’t I fur one didn’t care when Suke Peters 
sot her cap fur him and got him. He was afeard tu say he 
wouldn't hev her, I reckon, fur she was awful humbly, and did 
the heft o' the courtin’ herself. She was a Posting girl. Well, 
they stepped off, and made out wonderful. About a couple o' 
weeks ago I met Machias trottin' up street with a boy by the 
hand and was so astonished I screeched out. 

‘'Land o’ liberty!" sez I. “'Tain't Machias Tibbs.?" 

“I reckon that’s Miss Grinder," sez he. 

“It is," sez I. “But I thought you was tu Posting." 

“Sez he, “We've moved down here. Better place foi busi- 
ness. " 

“Getting along.?" sez I. 

“Wonderful," sez he. 

“Miss Tibbs well ?" sez I. 

“ Fat as butter, " sez he. ‘ ‘ Come and see us. " 

So I got their number, and went next day tu stay a month. 

They lived purty nice. Had four girls and a boy, and kept 
two helps. First week I was there it all went on nicely, though 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


233 


I didn't like the looks o' the chambermaid. But the second 
week, that gal went off one night in Miss Tibbs' best cloak and 
bunnit and never came back, and the cook was found tipsy down 
cellar with a barrel o' ale runnin' away and soakin' her, and was 
turned off So both gals was gone and Miss Tibbs was obliga- 
ted to get a couple more. 

Sez she, "'Will you take keer o' the home while I'm gone, 
Miss Grinder.?" sez she. 

‘‘With pleasure," sez I. So off she went to the intelligence 
office, takin' the boy with her. The gals was at school, so the 
hull responserbility o' purtectin' the property rested on my shoul- 
ders. I had a kind o' a presentiment how’t suthin' would hap- 
pen, and I sez tu myself. Charity Grinder, sez I, whatever tryin' 
sitavation you air placed in, remember fur tu show how't your 
courage is equal tu the emergency, and prove yourself an honor 
tu the female sect. 

My sperits was riz by this here resolution, and I sot down tu 
pass the time by readin' some o' Miss Tibbs’ letters, when the 
bell rings. There was suthin' in that ring that gave me a start. 

I locked up Miss Tibbs' desk again and went tu the door. There 
I found a young man waitin'. 

Sez he, “Is this here Miss Tibbs?" 

“Yes," sez I. 

“Own the house?" sez he. 

“ Yes^" sez I. 

“What's its value?" sez he. 

I told him. 


234 


THE GRINDER PAPERS 


' ‘ Has he money in the bank V sez he. 

“Yes,” sez I. 

‘ ' How much ?” sez he. 

“ Dunno,” sez 1. 

And he went on askin' questions and writin' 'em down, until 
I couldn't think what on airth was the meanin' un't, unless the 
young man was out o' his mind. 

At last, sez he, “Is there a planner in the house?” 

“Yes,” sez I, beginnin' tu understand. 

Then sez he, “Air there any watches or diamonds?” 

Then I knowed for certain. 

This here young man a-sittin' in the hall, alone with a unper- 
tected female, in a deserted dwellin', was a burgular. 

‘ ' Any watches or diamonds ?” sez he. 

Sez I, arter a minute's consideration : 

“Yes, Miss Tibbs has one and so's he, and she's a ring and a 
pin. ” 

“Any silver?” sez he. 

' ^ Spoons, and forks, and other things, ” sez I. 

“Any sewing-machine?” sez he. 

“Yes,” sez I. 

Sez he, “ Now what d'ye s'pose the silver is wuth?” 

“Well,” sez I, “not much.” 

He looks kind o' doubtful. 

Sez I, “Ef you'd like tu see it you could *udge.” 

“Very well,” sez he. 

“Come this way,” sez I. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


235 


Twas a kind o' an old-fashioned house, and back o' the stairs 
was a big clothes-press. Miss Tibbs put winter things in it fur 
summer. ^ 

I opened the door o' this, and sez I : 

‘'The silver is on a shelf in there, ef you'll look in." 

In he goes, and that minnit I bangs the door tu, and locks it, 
and puts the key in my pocket. 

"Hullo!" he hollers. " What are you doing, old lady?" 

Sez I, "I'm goin' fur the perlice, you wicked wretch you. 
You thought you'd make a fool o' me, did you? I've lived in 
York tu long fur that, you abominable larcening burgular." 

Then I bolts the door in two places — fur it had bolts as well 
as keys — and knowed I had him safe. Then I sot out fur a 
perlice. 

I went without so much as puttin' on a bunnit, and jest at the 
corner who should I meet but Mr. Tibbs. Some business had 
brung him home. 

" Heving has sent you, Mr, Tibbs," sez L 

"Why, what's the matter?" sez he. 

Sez I, "Burgulars is in your house !" 

" Goodness gracious I" sez he. - 

"They're locked up in the pantry, and I'm goin' fur the per- 
lice," sez I. 

"Goodness gracious !" sez he. " How can I ever thank you. 
Miss Grinder?" 

"No occasion," sez I. "Merit is its own reward. I'm ob- 
ligated tu ye?" 


236 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Sez he, ‘‘We’d better make haste. The wretch might escape, 
or Miss Tibbs might return.” 

“The house and pantry is both locked,” sezJL, showin’ him 
the keys. 

He squoze my hand. 

Well, all this while we were hurryin’ on, and at last we came 
tu the station’us. 

Mr. Tibbs rushes in. 

“My house is attacked by burgulars, ” sez he, “and I need 
assistance.” Then he kinder danced about. “Immediately,’' 
sez he. “Don’t be so long about it. I shall be robbed of 
everything I possess ef you don’t make more haste.” 

Some o’ the perlice stared and didn’t say nuthin’ ; but, finally, 
a couple came along' with us. ’Twas high time, fur when we 
got there Miss Tibbs was a-standin’ on the porch along with the 
new cook gal. 

“Land o’ Goshen !” sez she, “what on airth is the matter?” 

Sez I, “Be carm. Miss Tibbs; your house is invaded by bur- 
gulars. ” 

She clasps her hands. 

“Kitch me, Tibbs,” sez she, “I’m goin’ tu faint.” 

“I hain’t got time,” sez he, openin’ the door. “Now, per- 
lice, I hope you’re well armed, fur no doubt you’ll hev trouble.” 

“Oh, that’s him,” sez Miss Tibbs; “I hear him now.” 

And sure enough the burgular was kickin’ and yellin’ fur tu 
be let out. 

Sez j\Ir. Tibbs : 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


m 


‘‘Well let you out soon enough, my man." 

Then he got behind the hall table. 

“ Du yer duty, perlice,'' sez he. 

And the perlice unlocked the pantry. 

Out he pulls the, young man, as red as fire, fur it was almost 
air-tight in the pantry, with his portfolio under his arm. 

“Well,” sez one, “you're a pretty fellow, ain’t you?” 

Sez the other, ‘ ‘ Don't make no attempt at resistance, young 
man, it’s useless.” 

The burgular puffs and pants, and after awhile he gets his 
breath, and sez he : 

“What du you take me fur? Is this here a free country, or 
is a man tu be molested in the discharge o' his duty?” 

“No humbug,” sez the perlice. “Come, now, march.” 

Sez the young man, “Not until I know what I'm arrested fur. 

Sez the perlice, “Fur bein' in a gentleman's pantry.” 

“I wasn't there o' my own free will,” sez the young man. 
“That old critter poked me in and locked me up.” 

“I glory in it,” sez I, 

“Well,” sez he, “unless you're crazy I'd like to know what 
you meant.” 

“I meant this here, ” sez I, “I'm from Peekskill, but I've got 
tu know what York is. It’s the awfulest place on airth, and 
when you came a questionin' me about watches and silver, I 
wasn’t so green as tu let you hev ’em and sheer off. I knowed 
you was a burgular from the minute I sot eyes on you. ” 

“A what?” sez he. 


238 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘A petty larceny, highway burgular,” sez I. 

Gracious heavings !” sez he, ''I'm a gentleman in the em- 
ploy o' the eternal revenue. I'm collectin' taxes," sez he. "I 
hev the proofs in this here book," and he pokes it at the perlice. 

"I'm afraid there's a mistake," sez Mr. Tibbs. 

"You shall find it more than a mistake, sir," sez the young 
man. 

"What did he do?" asks Mr. Tibbs. 

"Asked questions about what you were wuth," sez I, "and 
who had watches, and what the silver cost; I'll swear tu that" 

"He didn't tech nothin', eh?" sez Miss Tibbs. 

"Not yit," sez I. 

"Gracious goodness I This gentleman was perfectly correct 
— excusable — ah! that is — I'm really shocked," sez Mr. Tibbs. 

"Then you believe he's an eternal revenner, du ye?" sez I. 

"Why, yesy' sez he, " I've no doubt you've been very hasty, 
Miss Grinder." 

Sez I, "You're imposed upon. Don't be took in, but hev 
him took up." 

But, land o' liberty 1 they didn't listen tu me, but was apolo- 
gizin' tu the burgular, and finally let him off. 

Now Miss Tibbs sez she hopes they won’t be taxed double on 
account o' treatin' the collector so ; but she expects to be. 

I feel disgusted with 'em. They'd orter hev better sense. I 
never seen an external revenner; but any one o' intelectability 
must know how't they wouldn't come askin' about watches, and 
silver, and that. That young man was a burgular and nothin' else. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


239 


NUMBER TWENTY-NINE. 

MISS GRINDER PREVENTS A RASH ACT. 

A spell ago there come tu the door o' Liberty Ann Bolivar^ 
where Tm at present residin', a boy with tickets for an excursion 
o' a pious natur' that the Baptist meetin'-us was about tu hev. 
I've allers had an attendance tu pietude, and when I onderstood 
how't there was music by the band, and ice cream, and straw- 
berries, and cold turkey, and a openin' address by the Reverend 
Mister Quail, why, I bought a ticket. Didn't calkerlate at that 
time how’t all the goodies was ‘"extry," and ther warn't nothin’ 
but the address in with the ticket, nor how’t they'd rig up a little 
gal with flowers and ribbons fur tu collect after the band played. 
But I was besot tu go, and I went 

I put on my yaller muslin, and a blue bunnit, and my red 
merino shawl, fur fear it should blow up cold, and I calkerlated 
tu enjoy myself. 'Tain't necessary^ tu say how't I didn’t Hu- 
man hopes is futile, especially when they're founded onto prom- 
ises. 

As fur the jaunt, that was well enough, ef it hadn't ben fur 
the scroudging ; but when it come tu cutin'— pu was obleeged 


240 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


tu pay fifty cents fur a snatch at things you couldn't get, arter all, 
and wouldn't ha' ben worth nuthin' ef you had. 

Shouldn't a-had no turkey myself, only when I seen a great, 
long-armed critter o' a man consumin' the heft o' a turkey, I 
jest stuck my fork in under his arm and took the third help off 
his plate. 

‘'Where ! What ! Who 1" he hollers. 

"It's only me. Miss Charity Grinder, from Peekskill," sez I, 
"and I'm goin' tu hev fair play and my dollar’s wuth." 

As fur doughnuts, I speared them the length o' the table with 
the sharp eend o' my numberill, and got as many as I wanted. 
And as fur the hat, I didn’t put nuthin' intu that when 'twas 
handed round. So, considerin' how't the pious portion o' the 
congregation sot elevatin' their noses, fur tu prove they was bet- 
ter than the rest, and the giddy ones sot tu work makin' fun o' 
folks, so’t a heathen would a blushed tu own 'em fur relation- 
ship, the season was tol'rable agreeable. 

Of course it rained ; but that was tu be expected, fur it allers 
rains when Sabbady schools goes a junketing. But when you 
make a p'int o' allers bein' perwided with a numberill, rain ain't 
o' no pertickler consequence. 

Finally we arrived tu the romantic spot w^here we was tu lo- 
cate ourselves, and the folks begun tu rush like mad ashore. 
'Twas purty damp arter the rain, and brilin' hot overhead, intu 
the bargain, but the scurtioners didn't appear tu mind that. 

As fur me, I pinned up my skirts and put up my numberill, 
and tried tu sot some o' 'em a-talkin', but they was tu much 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


241 


afeard o’ exhibitin’ their ignorance, and wouldn’t say nuthin’. 
So I gin it up and went and sot in a romantic spot by the water, 
tu eat the doughnuts I’d put in my pocket tu the table. 

Twas a shady grove, and I s pose there warn’t no kind o’ bug 
or insect that warn't there tu get up and down you as you 
sot on the grass. One long, black critter seemed tu hev a per- 
tickerlar spite at me, but I eended it by stompin’ on him. Ar- 
ter awhile I fell asleep. 

I was awakened by a most extraordinary splashin’ sound not 
fur from me, and lookin’ up I saw tu my horror a feller-bein’ in 
the act o’ attemptin’ tu commit feller-de-spree, as the Reverend 
Mister Parsons, Esquire, used tu call it. 

He was up tu his waist in the water, and appeared tu be tryin’ 
to throw hisself on his back. He warn’t attired in no great o’ 
garments, but when a feller-bein’s life is concerned fillanthrovy 
is more tu be thunk of than perpriety. I sprung tu my feet, 
claspin’ my hands and castin’ my expressive blue eyes tu the sky, 
and I seemed tu remember how’t I’d heerd o’ the Humanitary 
Serciety rewardin’ a goold medal tu persons that had saved a 
feller-bein’s life at the sacrifice o’ their own. Even if ’twarn’t a 
medal, but a certificate, ’twould be suthin’ tu frame and hev hung 
up in the parlor, sez I, and ef I kin I’ll save him. 

So I rushes down tu the bank, wavin’ my numberill, and 
shrieks at the top o’ my voice ; 

‘'Come out o’ that water short meter I You needn’t calker- 
late on bein’ allowed tu feller-de-spree yourself in the presence 


242 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


o' a person o' my magnitude o' mind. Ain't you ashamed o' 
yerself ! Come, now — I'm waitin' fur you tu come out !" 

He didn't say nuthin', but he retreated further back, so't nuth- 
in’ only his head was visible, and there he stopped. 

'Twas tu fur tu go in arter him ; so, seein' a gentleman in a 
white cravat on the risin' slope o' a hill, I lifts up my voice and 
hollers. 

Mister reverend gentleman up there, please tu hurry down," 
sez 1. ‘Ht's a case o' life and death." 

Down he comes in a hurry. 

‘^Dear, dear!" sez he. ‘^What has happened.?" 

Feller-de-spree," sez I. 

‘^Hey.?" sez he. 

'Ht’s pecooliar that one o' your callin' shouldn’t understand 
langwidge, sir," sez I. ''Feller-de-spree means self-susinside. " 

Sez he, "Ah 1 I comprehend. But where — who.?" 

I p'ints tu the head jest appearin' on the water. 

"There," sez I. "I’ve tried my power o' oratic in vain. 
'Tain't tu be expected how’t yoiill succeed that way ; but you, 
bein' o' the male sect, might tuck up your trowsaloons and go 
in and fetch him out. " 

Sez he, "Yes; but let us try persuasion fust. My friend, 
don't you know ycu are duin' very wrong.?"' 

The head answered up quite smart : 

"I’m only duin' what others du," sez he. 

" Many an onfortunate wretch has done the same," sez the 
dominy ; "but they’re a-burnin' on’t in bfintstVin now," 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


243 


'‘In which?' sez the susinside. 

"In brimstun,'^ sez the dominy. 

" Well/' sez the susinside, "I didn't know there was any law 
agin it in these parts." 

' ‘ There air earthly and superior laws, " sez the dominy. 

"Seein' you ain't a member o' perlice 'tain't your affair," sez 
the susinside. 

"Are you comm' out?"- sez the dominy. 

"No," sez the poor critter. 

Sez the dominy, "We'll be obliged tu fetch ye, then." 

"Du it, ef you durst," sez the susinside. 

Sez the dominy, "Madam " 

"Miss Grinder," sez 1. 

‘ 'Well, Miss Grinder, " sez he, ' ' will you obleege me by goin' 
up tu Elder Snubbs and Deacon Dodge and fetchin' 'em down ? 
Du it without lettin' the rest become aware o' this here unhappy 
circumstance. I will remain tu watch my feller critter. " 

Away I fled, and soon I tound the company, lookin' ruther 
low-sperrited, sottin' about on the grass. 

"Which is Elder Snubbs?" sez I. 

"That's me," sez a gentleman. 

"The dominy requested me. Miss Grinder, from Peekskill, 
tu come and request you tu jine him in prewentin' a feller mor- 
tal from committin' feller-de-spree," sez I. 

"Heow?" sez the elder. 

"By drownin'," sez I. "You and Deacon Dodge is tu 


come. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


244 

sez he, ‘4’m a-comin'. Who’d a thunk it? But 
unpleasantnesses o’ this natur dus allez seem tu arise on picnics. 
Four chillen was drownded last occasion o’ merrymakin’, and 
Mr. Sproozie he broke his arm.” 

Then he waddled away, and Mr. Dodge, who was a lean, 
long-favored critter, stalked arter him, wrapped up in a travelin 
shawl. 

The rest o’ the picnic, both o’ the men and wimmin sect, fol- 
lered on. 

'‘Now,” sez the dominy, when we arrived tu his assistance, 
‘T and this here good lady has both tried our powers o’ persua- 
sion onto this person, who seems tu be misguided, ef he ain’t 
deranged, and he insists on continnerin’ tu perpetrate his rash 
act. I’ve enjoyed a spell o’ rheumatics myself, so ’twouldn’t be 
correct fur me tu go arter him, but there’s no reason why you 
shouldn’t. Seein’ how’t ladies is present, you’d better wrap him 
up in your travelin’ shawl. Brother Dodge, afore you fetch him 
ashore. 

So the two walks intu the water, and arter considerable trouble, 
fetches out the susinside, kivered up, all but his head. I stood 
ready fur tu ask the direction o’ the Humanitary Serciety, and 
send fur my medal. 

They placed him on the bank, and everybody came and looked 
at him. Then I regret fur tu say he used the awfulest o’ per- 
lane langwidge, and called the dominy an old fegy, anJ wanted 
tu know why he poked his nose intu what didn't consarn him, 

“’Twas my Christian duty,” sez the dominy. “And now, 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


US 

unhappy man, may I ask the reason o' your endeavorin' tu com, 
mit this here rash act, and violatin' the laws o' yer creation ?" 

^'The reason /' sez the young man. ‘^Well, I dunno. 
'Twas partly the warm weather, and partly dirt. I needed a 
good wash, and I had a holiday ; what's more. I'm goin' in 
when I like, in spite o' all the meddlin' parsons and old wimmin 
goin'." 

Sez the parson, in a kind o' a faint voice, ‘^Wash 

‘‘Yes, wash. Didn't ye never du it.?" sez the susinside. 

“Young man," sez the dominy, “I beg tu understand clearly 
— warn't your intention self-destruction.?" 

“ Warn't it suicide.?" sez Deacon Dodge. 

“ Warn*t you goin' tu drown yourself?" sez Elder Snubs. 

‘ ‘ Drown myself !" sez the young man. ‘ ‘ Why, I hadn't such 
a thought. Like the heft o' persons hereabouts. I’m fond o' 
takin' a bath. I thought you was objectin' tu it, seein' they've 
stopped ’em in New York." 

“We're all errin' mortals. Allow me to tender my apolo- 
gies," sez the dominy. 

“I don't keerif I take 'em," sez the young man, “seein' 
you're such a pack o' dough heads. Now ef these here ladies 
will retire I shill get my clothes. Ef they don't hurry I shill get 
'em anyhow." ' 

So the wimmin sect flowed, me along with 'em, and nobody 
as much as complimented me on my promptitude o' action, but 
the heft snickered at me and laid the hull blame o' the unforseen 
eend o' the occurrence tu me. 


246 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER THIRTY. 

CHARITY SHOPS FOR AN UMBRELLA. 

‘‘Got 'ny numberillas?” Don't I see 'em, eh? Nuno’yer 
sass, young man, and don't lag there behind the counter, but 
trot out and show yer goods, ef you've got brains enough. Let's 
see yer numberillas. What du I want tu give ? Land o' liberty 
— ef ever I heerd? Catch me a-tellin' you how much tu cheat 
me. What's the price o' this here? Ten dollars? Why, 'tain't 
no size at all ; a mean little short handle, and folds up flat. 
Hain't got nuthin' fur yer money when ye've took it. That's 
the present style, eh ? Don't tell me ; I'm not tu be took in 
this here way. I'm purtickerler about my numberillas, tu. 
The last I had I kep' upwards o' ten years. 'Twas a nice one ; 
blue cotton, with a brass top. A young man that's engaged tu 
be united intu the bonds o' matrimony with a relationship o' 
mine, he went and lost it tu a matine’gh. Never gin me an- 
other, neither. 'Twas near about bein' lost a spell before by my 
brother Jonathan. He's a master hand to lose numberillas. 
He left it behind him tu Peter Squash's folks. They knowed 
whose 'twas, you bet a dollar; but they jest tucked it away. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


247 


One day I met Miss Peter Squash goin' hum in a rain under it ; 
knowed it by its pecooliarities. 

**How air you, Miss Squash?'^ sez 1. 

^'Sos tu be crawlinV^ sez she. 

sez I, ^'how laden up ye be with a market basket and 
a tin pail, and a bundle, and that numberill. '' 

Sez she, ‘‘Well, I am purty fore-handed for lugs, that's a fact." 

Sez I, “Pll carry your numberill. Miss Squash." 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ Thank ye. " 

So I tuk a hold, and we continued on a spell. Arter awhile, 
sez I : 

“He! he! he! for marsy sakes, this looks like a numberill I 
lost. " 

Sez she, “Mebbe 'tis. Miss Grinder ; never knowed how I 
come by it. The help found it behind the kitching door one 
day." 

Sez I, “Jonathan left it som'eres'; probably 'twas there." 

“Well," sez she, “guess it was." 

I larfed, but I knowed she knowed it. Thinks me, “Til fix 
her." Twas a-pourin' hard, and we'd just come to the fork o^ 
the road, quarter o' a mile from her 'us and quarter o' a mile 
from our 'us. 

Sez I, “ Well, here we part." 

“So we do," sez she. 

Sez I, “Good-by, Miss Squash. I'll take the numberill my- 
self, and not have you troubled in sendin'it; 'bleeged tu ye," 
and off I marched, takin' it. After she got hum, her best bun- 


248 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


nit was spiled, and a lot o' sugar in a paper soaked up, and no 
eend o’ mischief done. I oilers felt tu rejice when I think on’t, 
seein’ ’twas a judgment ontu her fur cunnivin’ at the hookin’ o’ 
my numberill. No, young man, this here flat, screwed up thing, 
with no bulge tu it, ain’t the kind fur me. Besides, black ain’t 
dressy, flow’d I like a brown ’un? Well, no knowin’ till I 
see ’em. 

I declare this is jest the shape o’ the other. What’s the tax — 
five.^* an’ it are no size at all. Now, Miss Crimps, up hum, has 
a numberill she sots on. Lor’, you know I don’t mean actilly, 
but she sots store by it. It’s a kind o’ ginghum. Her grand- 
’ther had it in his youth. She hangs it up in the keepin’-room, 
and keeps the dusters intu it, and the ironin’-rubbers, and John- 
nie’s top and marbles, and no eend o’ oddsome shortlies. She 
sez it’s as useful as a trunk. 

Should think she’d spile it } 

Why, lor’, no. It improves tne appearance on’t mightily. 
Things in old times was made tu use ; now, things only tu sell. 
Awee up on the top shelf there’s one, I think, might soot me. 
Why, how awful short you be! Seems tu me the Yorkers is a 
short-legged race. Up tu Peekskill the heft is tall, though ceil- 
in’s bein’ lower does make a difference. What folks wants tu 
build ’em in the sky fur, I dunno. It must be a heap o’ trouble 
tu whitewash. 

Why, this here is better ; longer handled and puffier ; more 
fur yer money. What’s the price ? There, don’t say nuthin’. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


249 


Jest stand still a minite. Now the light falls onto you, you look 
jest like him. Ain’t yer name Morgan } 

No, it’s Brown? La! Now, mebbe your maternelate rela- 
tionship was o’ the name o’ Morgan ? Jest try tu think. 

You must be o’ the famerly. 

You’ve got a yaller complectical look. So had they; and 
you’ve got a wart ontu yer nose ; so hev they some on ’em. 
And yer inclined tu be scraggy ; they air tu. Him that you look 
most like is Jenkins Morgan. He was the awfulest character I 
ever knowed. Fust he robbed his boss o’ twenty dollars ; and 
then he ran off with the wife o’ Jimmenny Pipkin ; and arter 
that he embezzled suthin’, and was sent tu Sing Sing for’t; 
finally, ’twas heerd how’t he was hung. When you go hum ask 
yer ma whether Jenkins Morgan warn’t a relationship, and tell 
her what you’ve heerd consarnin’ him. She’ll feel tu be interest- 
ed. There — a-hangin’ up ontu a hook is the thing what appears 
the nearest tu my idees o’ a numberill. Fetch it down. Green 1 
Well, green is a nice color — good fur the eyes, tu, they say. 
What’s the charge? Well, fur say tew-and-a-half. I won’t pay 
no sech a price. I ain’t tu be taken in. Calkerlate I won’t be 
suited. Well, here I sot till I be. I’m goin’ o’ a journey, and 
there’s no tellin’ how useful numberills is at sech times. 

You put ’em up ef it rains and tu keep orf the sun — and you 
can hook conductors with ’em — and pull the check strings, and 
poke folks you want tu speak tu. Then getting through a 
crowd you kin make your way better’n by scrougin’, fur number- 
ills hurt worse’n elbers, and if any one was tu durst insult ye by 


250 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


speakin’ tuye — and the York men sect is horrid that way — ^you 
could thump 'em. And they’re splendid fur bad boys, and 
meddlin’ children, and dogs, and I have heerd o’ frightenin’ 
mad bulls by openin’ it in ther faces suddent. 

Let’s see, I’ve seen blue numberills, and green, and brown, 
and black, but I never seen a red ’un. Them that makes ’em 
knows how’t folks couldn’t hook ’em ef they was pecooliar ^ 
colors, and ’twould spile their trade. The heft o’ numberills is 
stole ye know. 

What / call a good ’un don’t never wear out. Things comes 
. off on’t — the handle, the fastenin’, the top, and a wire or two ; 
but the body on’t is everlastin’. Wonder who has got mine. 
Some o’ the fash’nable Yorkers I spect, that gets hold o’ things 
any way they kin, honest or not. I’ve looked out fur it up 
Broadway every time since I lost it. I borryed one myself. 
This here is Samanthy Grigg’s helps that I’ve got with me. She 
don't never use it only fur rain. Got a hity-tity pink thing, with 
beads, fur the sun. No handle nearly. Reaches her arm up 
so's her elber is right angles o’ her nose, and hists it before one 
eye ; t’other has tu wink, cause it ain’t shaded. You’ve got 
beaded ones. Well I reckon you have, but I ain’t a-goin’ to 
hist one and look like a tamborine gal follerin’ a monkey and 
organ. Du tell, let’s look, though ; might as well see what’s 
goin’, and know what folks be in York. 

That thing with the gilt glass ball for a handle beats me all 
holler, and the one with tassels would give a duck fits. S’pose 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


251 


I was tu climb up and take down what I liked, I’d get along 
better ; wouldn’t I? Oh ! well, if ye don’t like it /don’t keer; 
you can wait on me. Fetch ’em along till I’m suited. Stop 
now, while I think on’t ; you hain’t seen nuthin’ o’ a man that 
mends numberills, hev ye ? A stumpy kind o’ a man, with a 
wart on his chin, and yallerish eyes, wears a white hat with a 
dent in it, and has a nose of most an awful dimension, and a 
green coat, and a bundle, a numberill, and stubbed-toed shoes, 
and answers to the name o’ Moses. Seein’ you was o’ the same 
trade, thought I’d ask. No connection with such common 
people. Well, I dunno much difference between mendin’ ’em 
and makin’ ’em, and sellin’ ’em ; so ye needn’t stick up your 
nose. Is Mr. Moses a relationship o’ mine P I vow tu man. 
Well, I declare — of course not. He come tu Miss Colonel 
Washman that keeps a tavern to Peekskill, and, sez he, ^H’m a 
gentleman in distressed circumstances,” sez he, *‘and obleeged 
tu mend these here for a livin’. ’Tain’t what I’m used tu,” sez 
he, ^‘but I’ll do it cheap,” sez he. ‘‘I’ll mend all you’ll fetch 
fur my night’s lodgin’. ” Well, she had a lot needed fixin’, and 
she fetched ’em in. He worked away like all possessed, and at 
night they gin him the attic. He pertended fur tu be exhausted 
with his walk and his work, and snored horrid till the rest was 
asleep. Then he must a-got up and opened Miss Washman ’s 
desk, and took up’ards o’ nineteen dollars in money, and a 
watch, and arterwards he took a silver tea-pot she sot on, and a 
gownd she wore a Sabber-days, and scooted. It did make her 
hoppin’ mad — no wonder, and they hain’t never tetch^d him tu 


252 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


ketch yet. He left all his old numberills, and them he mended 
came tu pieces right off agin. 

Your boss is out, ain’t he? Now, what does he look like? 
Is his eyes yallerish — and has he got a nose on his chin ? Now, 
you own up ef he has. fur hwould du me good tu ketch the 
critter, and send word tu Miss Washman I’d done it. The per- 
prieter is your pa ? Well, there’s no reason o’ his not bein’ him 
ef he is. Of course you’d hide it, though. I shouldn’t reflect 
onto you, and Td buy the numberill all the same, ef it was 
cheap. 

There, now, them white ones. They ain’t intended for ladies/ 
use. Hand ’em over. Why, they’re fust-rate. Hain’t a doubt 
they’ll wear. The handle is most as long as I be, and ferule 
measures a quarter o’ a yard, plump. Strong and handsome ; 
reckon you kept ’em fur some that you thought great folks. I’ve 
cut my eye teeth, and lost ’em, tu, and can’t be cheated. They’re 
meant for stage-drivers and cartmen ; well, they’re good judges, 
no doubt, they’re out o’ doors so much ; I’ll take this here ; it*s 
a most an^awful price, but it’ll last a life-time, and ef it’s hooked 
I’ll know it a mile off ; and ef I should acceed tu the induce- 
ments o’ them that’s anxious fur me tu except their intentions, 
why, it’s a reg’lar family numberill. Its worth suthin’. How 
mean them flat-foldin’ silk rag looks alongside on’t. 

Well, good-by. Ask yer man about the name o’ Morgan ; 
and take notice o’ anybody o’ the description o’ Mr. Moses that 
visits yer pa, or conies on business. And next time you get a 
good custonter don’t keep back the best o’ the goods $0 long. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


253 


NUMBER THIRTY-ONE. 

MISS GRINDER IS IMPOSED UPON. 

Well, I dunno, Arminty ; fur my part I haven't no confidence 
in auctions. As a general thing I think yer apt tu be deceived, 
and took in, no matter how much o' sagacity o' mind you may 
hev by nature. Fact o' the matter is such a gift o' the gab is 
purty hard tu keep up with. The bearin' don't travel as fast as 
the sound, which was how a scientifical lecterer, that come tu 
Peekskill onct, ef I don't disremember, accounted for thunder 
and lightnin'. 

Don’t remember the Rev. Mr. Thumper, du ye? He 
preached fur us up there a spell. He was extremely impressin* 
in his manner. Deacon Piunket said he looked j)rec:sely like 
St. Paul. Dunno how he knew how he looked, but perhaps he'd 
seen his daggertype. Deacon Piunket has traveled a good deal. 
Been tu Australy, and that, ef I remember, is handy tu Pales- 
tine, where I calkerlate Saint Paul lived considerable, and arter 
Cousin Jones died we found more’n twenty daggertypes round 
among his things, so prob'ly it might hev been the same with 
Paul. 


254 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


And that fetches me tu picturs, and, arter all, picturs is my 
subject. 

You see the congregation was extremely took up with Mr. 
Thumper (while it lasted), and about Christmas time it was con- 
sidered appropriate fur tu donate him a token o' esteem. There 
was a private meetin' tu Joel Burdock's house, fur tu decide 
what it had orter be. Deacon Plunket was the first tu speak. 

Sez he, ''Brothern and sistern : We’ve met tugether fur a pe- 
cooliarly pleasant reason. Near as I can calkerlate we've col- 
lected about a hundred dollars, and the objeck is tu donate a 
Christmas gift to our pastor. Now, the question is, what shall 
it be 

Up jumps Mr. Burdock. Sez he, ‘‘Beg pardon fur inter- 
ruptin', but ef the cheer will permit, I beg tu remark how’t we 
hain’t took the report o' the committee." 

You see Mr. Burdock had given considerable, and wanted it 
knowed. 

“Very true," sez Deacon Plunket. “Now, Mr. Peach, 
you’re secretary, you go ahead and read out the report. " 

Up jumps Mr. Peach. Sez he, “Ladies and gentlemen " 

Sez Mr. Burdock, “You ain't tu make a speech. Your juty 
is tu read the reports. " 

“Lor'," sez Mr. Peach, “I was only a-sayin' how't I was 
about tu read 'em." 

“Very well," sez Mr. Burdock, “go ahead." 

“The committee appointed fur tu collect," sez Mr. Peach, 
tu be stopped by nuthin', “has succeeded beyond their ex" 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


255 


pectations. ^Twas owin', as I calkerlate, on their bein' all ladies. 
The heft o' ladies has a overpowerin' influence on the hearts o' 
the men sect. When they're young and beautiful their charms 
does it, and when they're middlin'-aged it's by a kind o' moral 
swashun " 

‘‘That's jawin', ain't it?” sez Captain Kornkob. “Ef, not 
understandin' Latin, I kin ask the cheer, don't that mean jaw- 
in'?" 

Sartingly not^ sez Mr. Peach, who is studyin' fur a lawyer, 
“It's a power o' touchin' the tenderest feelin's o' the soul." 

“Thank ye, sir," sez the captain, and sot down, grinnin'. 

“Tu perceed with the report," sez Mr. Peach. “Miss Griggs, 
Mrs. Chowder, and Miss Winkle were the committee. Miss 
Griggs handed in this here : Mr. Burdock, fifteen dollars." 

Every one stared at Mr. Burdock, and he looked sot up. 

“Mr. Veal, the butcher, five." 

Mr. Veal coughed. 

“Mrs. Sammerskin, two; Mr. Chubbs, three; Mr. Charles, 
one. Makin' twenty-six fur Miss Griggs." 

“Very nice fur Miss Griggs." 

“Mrs. Chowder," sez Mr. Peach, “ reports eight dollars Irom 
Mr. Grump — the eend o' her collectin' ; but it proved her zeal. 
Mr. Grump ain’t much o' a hand tu give, bein' somewhat near, 
and he hain't no interest into church, never goin' tu one, and 
bein’ an enemy o' Mr. Thumper on account o' his boys stealin' 
his tomaterses. But Mrs. Chowder went, and knocked, and 
thumped, and kept at it, on the principle o' hevin’ it opened at 


256 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


last, and then when she got in and didn’t get nuthin", she kept 
a-goin’, and stayed tu tea with no invite — and that was costin' 
more in the eend to Mr. Grump — so he paid her, like they du 
the organ-grinders down in York, not tu come no more. She’s 
got eight dollars by it. 

‘‘Mrs. Winkle has a lengthy report. She went among the 
poorer classes : 

“Twenty-five cents from John Hubbs, chimbly sweep 

“Twenty-five from Ann Dolan, help. 

“Twenty-five from a colored gal, name unknownst. Told 
her she wouldn’t be apt tu go tu heaven unless she give it. 

“Twenty-five from Timothy Trot. 

“Half a dollar from old Mrs. Chubbs. She was savin' up tu 
buy a blanket. Told her prob'ly the Lord would perwide, and 
'twas wicked tu be hoardin'. 

“Half a dollar in pennies from Jane Chuff, seamstress. Said 
how’t she was savin' not tu be in the poor'us. 

“ ‘Jane,’ sez I, ‘ du you remember the parable the talents? 
That applies tu your case.' 

“ ‘ How?’ sez she. 

“ ‘Well,’ sez I, ‘you are puttin’ ’em away in an ola stockin’, 
and that’s as bad as buryin’ 'em,' sez 1. ‘Hand over suthin', 
Jane.’ 

“And she done it. 

“There’s zeal fur ye, sez Captain Kornico.^, grinnin’, 'cause 
he was pleased I reckon. ” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


257 


''Met a little girl goin' for ^lasses for her ma/' goes on Mr. 
Peach. "Said, 'What have you there, my little dear ?' 

"Sezshe, 'Ten pennies, ma’am. ^ 

"Sez I, 'Will you not contribute 'em tu a good cause?' 

' ' Sez she, ' They're ma’s. ' 

"Sez I, ‘Your ma will rejoice fur tu be permitted ' 

"She holds on tight. 

"'We ain't got no butter,' sezshe, ‘and the bread is like 
chips. ' 

'"No matter,' sez I. 'Tell your ma she has bought better 
than 'lasses with it.' Name o' Timkins — back cellar o’ the to- 
bacconist. ” 

And so he continnered, until what Miss Chowder got amounted 
tu a hundred dollars, put along o' the rest. 

"Now," sez Deacon Plunket, "what shill the gift be? 
Downing has everything necessary. He's forehanded o’ com- 
forts; this here must appeal tu the taste — must be a article o' 
adornment. They've all got watches, and rings, and pins. 
Last year we collected a silver tea-service, Now, what du you 
say tu a fine pictur?" 

' ‘ Good idee, " sez one. 

"A hundred doltes," sez the deacon, "orter recompense 
the fust o' artists for the best pictur. Perhaps,” sez he, "we 
might get a old master. Old masters is highly prized. A re- 
ligious subject would be appropriate, and some persons o' com- 
bined talent in arts and economy ought tu be app'inted tu 
choose. " 


258 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Up riz Captain Higgins o' the public house. ‘'Beg parding/' 
sez he, “but my sister Samanthy is a regular artist. Done a 
piece in theorems tu school, and a head in colored chalks, under 
a teacher. I move she be appointed." 

“Good," sez the deacon, and they voted Samanthy in. The 
only other person o' artistic debility was me. I purposed my- 
self, and was choose. 

Ther was tu be an auction o' waluable picturs belongin' tu a 
departed gentleman, at a residence called Tooker’s Bliss, up on 
a hill, and there we went tu look one up, goin' in afore folks 
had come. 

The auctioneer was there. He nods. I walks up tu him. 
Sez I, ‘ ‘ Sir, we're a couple o' ladies o' artistic debility, app'inted 
fur tu select a pictur o' a religious tendency, fur tu donate a gift 
tu the Reverend Mr. Thumper, Esquire. Will any o' that na- 
tur be bid off?" 

He thinks, and sez he, “Yes'm — one." 

“What is it?" sez I. 

“ ‘Eve givin' Abel his supper,'" sez he. 

‘ ‘ Let s see it, " sez 1. 

Well, there it was, as big as all out-doors. Eve was settin' on 
the grass, under a tree, with nuthin' on only a red scarf; and 
there was the beautifullest tree overhead, and no eend o' doves 
about ; and Abel he was perched on a barrel, drinking out o' a 
splendiferous chany mug', with the most elegantest o wreaths on 
his head, o' grape-vine leaves, and a bunch o' grapes in his t'other 
hand ; and he was as fat as butter, and his cheeks like pinys. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


259 

‘ ' Lor', " sez Miss Samanthy, ' ‘ it's elegant ; but they hain't 
nuthin' on tu speak of." 

Sez he, ''Bible picturs never has. Cotton was scarcer in the 
year one than in the year sixty-five. " 

"Ther hadn't been no war," sez she. 

"No," sez he. "But you couldn't expect nobody tu work 
niggers and run a mill only for Adam and Eve." 

"That's true," sez she. 

"Observe," sez he — oh, the sarpint ! — " Observe the cherubic 
amiability o' Abel, and the affection o' his glances at his ma, 
Thus we was intended fur tu smile, the hull on us. See how 
modest and blushin' Eve is. Don't need no words tu indicate 
that. The fust o' women, in course, was sich. Why, your 
dominy will be inspirated by that ere pictur fur no eend o' ser- 
mons, I hain’t a doubt. There's purity o' the furst inhabitants 
o' arth afore they had eat the apple. That ther in Eve's hand 
ain't one o' the forbidden — it's a golden pippin. It's all inno- 
cence as yet. Why, your pastor 'ud never be the man without 
that he'd be with that work o' art. Besides, it's an old master, 
painted in Rome, nine thousand years or more ago, by Reubens, 
and copied by a lady o' taste, and from that copied by a German 
gentleman o' talent, so't you’ve got high art and an old master 
fresh done up, as red and yaller as at first, a regular improve- 
ment on the original, and varnished until you kin see yer face in 
it. A durable article o' high art, that can't wear out. Now, 
that‘11 sell for five hundred when it's put up. 

"We've only got one hundred," sez I. 


26 o 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘Well,” sez he, “Fm not forbid tu sell privately, and as it’s 
a scriptuF piece for a minister, take it at once, and you may 
have it for a hundred. Here you go and there you go. One 
hundred dollars for high art o’ a scriptur’ natur’, ‘Eve givin’ 
Abel his supper/ by Reubens.” 

So we bought it, and it was sent tu Miss Samanthy’s tu be 
kept until Christmas Eve. 

Then we all assembled tu the parsonage, and hired Jim Black 
and his boy tu fetch it over. 

The hull congregation was sottin’ in the parlors, the minister 
and his wife in the middle, and the children in a row on the 
sofa, when they bumps at the door. 

“What hev we here?” sez the minister. “Ah, ha ! what hev 
we here?” and in it comes, all done up in black musling. 

Mr. Peach hops up. 

Sez he, “Respected dominy and family, and the rest o’ the 
folks : The congregation o’ this here church bein’ desirous fur tu 
present you with a token o’ our esteem, has gone and purchased 
a work o’ art o’ a religious attendancy, fur tu adorn the walls o’ 
your parsonage. It air an aged master representin’ Eve, the first 
ma, givin’ her son Abel his tea. Jim, remove the kiver.” 

Jim done it, and the dominy began : 

‘ ‘ My surprise perwents 

There he stopped. He flung up his hand, and rolled up his 
eyes, and yells he ; 

“Send the children out o’ the room, Mrs. Thumper. Ladies, 
put up yer handkerchers until we turn the pictur round. Oh, 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


2.61 

my friends, some sarpent has deceived you I This here,^' sez 
he, ^‘is not Eve engaged in the maternal duties o’ feedin’ her 
son Abel, but Venus and Bacchus.'* 

Then he sot tu and turned the pictur round. I riz. 

Sez I, ‘T hev^the bill here. ^For Eve giving Abel his sup- 
per, 1 1 00.’” 

Sez he, My good, kind friends, you are imposed upon.” 

Miss Thumper wrung her hands. 

Sez I, ‘^Gracious ! who was they.? — du tell who they was .?” 

Sez he, '' Heathen deities.” 

Sez I, ^'Miss Thumper, du explain.” 

Sez she, ''Ladies, come tu my room and I will.” 

So we went. 

Sez she, "It ain't none o’ yer faults, but the purson that sold 
it. Bacchus was always tipsy, and Venus warn’t one bit better 
than she should be.” 

Then me and Miss Samanthy went intu highstrikes. 

The minister took it* intu prayerful consideration what he 
ought tu du with it, and concluded how’t the tavern-keeper, be- 
in' depraved a'ready, couldn't be hurt by it ; so he offered tu sell 
it tu him. He paid ten dollars for it, and it hangs over the bar, 
they say, tu this day, though o’ course I hain't never seen it. 

And my opinion o’ auctioneers is, that they're a degenerated 
race o' men, that don't keer what they say so long as things is 
sold ; for any one that would impose on such a thing as a com- 
mittee o’ ladies o' artistic debility, about tu donate a gift tu ther 
pastor, wouldn't stop at nuthin’. 


262 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER THIRTY-TWO. 

MISS grinder's thermometer is tampered with. 

Ef I know'd how amazin' hot a climate York was, I'd never 
ha' left Peekskill. 

Disagreeable as Jonathan’s conduct has made it fur me ther, 
I'd hev staid. I don't believe pne word o’ what they say about 
its bein' unusual. They only du it fur tu keep strangers here 
and get their custom. 

As near as I can remember, the thermometer was a thousand 
and four below zero, which is bilin' p'int, ye know, the last hot- 
test day, and it ain’t no wonder ther was so much immortality 
in the city. 

I noticed in the Herald tew columns o' habeus corpus, and 
only one birth. It seemed singular in such a great city, and 
that one o' English nativity. London papers please copy. 

It’s dreadful weather, but it takes appetites away, and so the 
boarding-house folks likes it. Though I make a p’nt o' eatin’ 
all I kin, out o' spite. 

Yes, the thermometer was horrid; and that puts me in mind 
o' a mysterious circums ance connected with one I had a num- 
ber o' years ago, when I was quite a gal. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


263 


I had a cousin by the name o' Christina Clipper, that married 
a gentleman o' the name o' Woggin walker, and went tu Canady. 
Arter she got ther, she used tu write how amazin' cold it was. 
Now, Fm a favorite o' cold weather; it makes ye spry. So I 
wrote back that Fd change with her ef I could, fur it was alto- 
gether tu warm in Peekskill. She writ back it was oilers a purty 
comfortable climate, so far as she knew, and so we kept it up, 
kinder in fun, fur a year or tew. 

At last it so happened that a gal o' Irish distraction, by the 
name o’ Molly Murphy, that was a-livin' in our place, heerd o' 
some relationship o' hern that had gone tu Canady, and was 
besot tu go. She was a ra-al smart help, and seein' as Miss 
Wogginwalker lived in the town with her relationships, and was 
always wantin' help, I sez tu Molly : 

‘'Now, I shouldn't wonder ef she'd hire ye; anyway, I'll give 
ye a recommend," and she was tickled tu death tu hev it. 

“Only," sez she tu me, “Fm afeard o' the cold weather. 
They say it’s a mighty freezin' place up there in winter." 

That jest reminded me how't Miss Wogginwalker and me was 
always arguin' about the climates, and sez I : 

“ Fll send her the weather jest as it is here, and show her." 

It was the eend o' August, and amazin' warm. 

sez I to Molly, “Ther's suthin' you must du for 

“What is it?" 

sez I, “Miss Wogginwalker won't believe how't it's 
hotter here than it is cold in Canady, and Fm goin' tu get a 


“Now," 

e." 

Sez she, 
“Well," 


264 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


thermometer and catch the heat at its wurst, and you shall take 
it in your trunk tu her/' 

She sez, “Willin' and glad tu oblige." 

So, when Molly was packin' up, I set out tu the drug store. 

“ Mister," sez I, “hev you such a thing as a thermometer.?" 

“We hev an assortment," sez he. 

Sez I, “I want a good one, that'll go up purty high, and 
retain the heat. " 

“Well," sez he, “these will all show the state o' the temper- 
toor. " 

Sez I, “Will it last until it gets tu Canady?" 

Sez he, “With keer it might last a life-time." 

So I picked one out. 

Sez I, “Now, how du ye get the highest heat?" 

“Put it in the warmest place," sez he. 

“Thank ye," sez I; and axed him what he taxed, and went 
away hum. 

Molly started next arternoon, and I made up my mind not tu 
heat it up until jest before she left, fur fear it should chill. 

Land o' liberty ! how provoked I was. The next day was 
kinder cloudy and cool. 

I put the thermometer outside the door, but it didn’t rise up 
nohow tu speak of, and I sent Molly up tu the roof, and du 
what she would, 'twouldn’t go up more’n eighty-nine. 

At last a thought struck me. 'Twas bakin' day, and the oven 
was red hot. T poked my gentleman in there, and the silver stuff 
flowed straight tu the top. I forget the number, but I know 
'twas the highest down. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


265 


I wish I’d got a longer one, ” sez I ; ^ ‘ dunno where it might 
hev riz. But run, now, Molly, and get a piece o’ red Hanning 
from the rag-bag, and let's wrap it well up, and mind you don’t 
tell INIiss Wogginwalker about the oven. Tell her the tcmper- 
toor o’ Peekskill, this summer, is precisely that what she sees 
marked down.” 

Well, Molly promised, and fetched the Hanning, and we put 
the thing in between a^^juilt o’ hern and a wool shawl, and I 
had tu laugh tu think how I’d fixed Miss Wogginwalker. 

I’d told Molly tu write jest how she took it, and in October I 
got a letter. I’ll jest show it tu ye : 

‘‘Canady, October loth. 

“Miss Grinder — Ma’am: This comes tu let ye know that 
I’m enjoyin’ the blessin’ iv health, and hope ye air the same. 

“It’s a mis’rable cowld climit we’re havin’. Ye’d think ’twas 
winter a’ready, and my Cousin Pater is married, and my Uncle 
Daniel tuck tu dhrink, and by the Lord’s blessin’ I’ll be back 
agin tu Christian lands afore I’m much oulder. The place is 
good, and the lady as well as most ladies is ; but, for all that, the 
male survents is French tu the man, an’ sorra a wan o’ me ’ud 
marry a foreigner. It would be a purty thing fur tu find it un- 
possible tu have a bit o’ discoors with your own husband, and if 
the children took after their father, divil a word they spoke could 
yc ondersthand. Catch me settlin’ here. 

“But, now. I’ve niver said a word consarnin’ the tempertoor 
I look along ’with me. Sure, Miss Grinder, me dear lady, I 
grave tu tell ye the same, but some meddlesome crayther must 
have tampered with the thermometer. Sure as me sowl’s me 
own, I kep’ it safe just where ye put it until I came tu Miss 


266 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Wogginwalker’s, who engaged me at onct, for her last survent 
was married tu a gentleman o’ the French persuasion a week be- 
fore. More betoken, he’s murdhered her a’ready, out o’ jeal- 
ousy, and save us from a foreign husband, and amen ! 

'*! took my things tu the house, and thin I got the thermo- 
meter, and, as I hope, I never unwrapped the Hanning, but kep’ 
it over it in my hand, and goes into the parlor to Miss Woggin- 
walker. 

‘•Says I, ‘ Miss Wogginwalker, ma’|p — Miss Grinder sends 
her compliments, and says you and she hevin’ hed some differs 
o’ opinion about the tempertoor o’ Peekskill, she’s cocht it in 
the thermometer and sent it fur ye to see.’ 

“‘Hey.?’ sez she. 

“ ‘Here it is, ma’am,’ sez I, and I off the Hanning, and, the 
saints purtect us ! it was down tu a third o’ where it was when I 
started. 

“Sez I, ‘Somebody has tampered with it, and altered it,’ and 
sorry I am tu tell you the truth, but so it was. 

“Ye bid me tell ye how she took it. Faith, she’s plazed as 
Puneh, not tu have it proved on her. You was right in the ar- 
gyment ; wheniver the thermometer is alluded to, she laughs 
until you’d think she’d die ; though where the fun is, I can’t see. 

“Du you think, ma’am, she could have got it out me thrunk 
and althered it ? 

“Yours, with respex, Molly Murphy.” 

And tu this day I’ve never been able tu find out who tampered 
with my thermometer. Shouldn’t wonder ef ’twas Miss Wog- 
ginwalker. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


26^ 


NUMBER THIRTY-THREE. 

CHARITY GOES TO THE CENTRAL PARK. 

Ef I live a thousand years, you won't catch me tu the Central 
Park agin. York is a mean place, take it in the lump, but this 
here Park is the meanest p'int in it. 

Ever sence I come. I've heard 'em talk on't as ef ther weren't 
no other place nowhere tu come up tu it, and I've kep' say in' 
I'd go, and puttin' on't off. The heft o’ my friends and rela- 
tionships was tu busy tu go along o' me when I suggested on't. 

I dunno us ever I should hev started, ef the Blinksops hadn't 
come down from Peekskill on a visit. Minute I heerd they was 
tu the'ir Cousin Clupper's I went over and took tea ; and while 
we was havin' it. Miss Blinksop sez ; 

‘‘Fust thing I'm goin' tu see is this here Central Park." 

“Well," sez I, “Ihain't been there yet; so s'pose we make 
a picnic on't ?" 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ That'll be a good idee. " 

So, last Friday we sot out — dunno where our heads was tu 
choose such an unlucky day. 

There was me and Miss Blinksop, and him and Aunt Pepper, 
and the. five children; and each o' the adulterates o' the party 


268 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


had a basket. We had ham, and biled eggs, and custards, and 
pies, and cake, and root beer ; and Miss Pepper she took along 
a couple o' blanket-shawls, fur fear it should blow up cold fur 
the baby and Amazonia, the‘eldest gal, who is a hand fur hevin' 
chills. 

We got intu a Eighth aveny car, and took the children ontu 
our laps. 

Up comes the conductor. 

What's the taxes?" sez Mr. Blinksop. 

Sez he, ‘'Four growed people and five children — full price 
fur the three biggest, and three cents fur the smallest." 

Sez Mr. Blinksop, “Sha'n’t pay nuthin' fur the young 'uns." 

Sez I, “No, indeed — don't you go and du any sich green 
thing, Mr. Blinksop." 

Sez the conductor, “You'll get off, then." 

Sez we, “Wesha'n't." 

Finally we compermised, and paid half price fur all the young 
'uns. 'Twas an awful fib, though, tu say Amazonia warn't only 
nine and a half, fur she's goin* on thirteen. 

We rid along a spell quite comfortable. Then there come a 
reg'lar squash o' folks intu the car, and 'twas all we could do tu 
keep our baskets from bein' oversot, and the young 'uns mur- 
dered ; and one very interestin' young man sot aside Mr. Blink- 
sop, and entered intu conversation with him. Said 'twas per- 
fectly nefarious o' the company not tu run more cars, and hoped 
he didn't incommodate nobody. 

Mr. Blinksop said “Not atali," and interduced the subjict of 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


269 


theology, which is his favorite, and wanted tu know what the 
young man thought o' predestination. He said the way he an- 
swered was a example tu the heft o' young men, by which I con- 
clude he thought, like Mr. Blinksop, about everybody, except- 
in' them he was relationshiped with, bein' in a bad way. 

'Twas as agreeable a season, Mr. Blinksop said, as ever he spent. 

We had tu part at the park, though, and all the children, only 
Amazonia, was sound asleep by that time, so 'twas with con- 
siderbul difficul'y that we waked 'em up. Mr. Blinksop lugged 
the baby and the biggest basket. I took Aunt Pepper under my 
new numberill, anci we meandered over the path, admirin' o' the 
pictereskew scenery. Arter a while we cum tu a green meader 
like velvet, and sez Miss Blinksop : 

‘'Now, why not picnic here?" 

Sez I, “No better place." 

So the children bein' starved, and the rest o' us tuckered out, 
we opened the baskets, spread a table-cloth, set out the pervi- 
sions, and sot down. 

Mr. Blinksop asked a blessin', and then carved the ham. 

“Heva slice. Miss Grinder?" sez he, and I was jest hoidin' 
my plate, when along comes a purson in gray clothes and white 
gloves. 

“Hullo!" sez he; “ come out o' that I" 

“Hey?" sez Mr. Blinksop. 

“Come off that grass," sez he. 

“Why?" sez Mr. Blinksop. 

“Agin the rules," sez he. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


2 'JO 

“Can’t ye jest mitigate ’em fur once?” sez Mr. Blinksop. 

' ‘ The children is purty sharp fur their grub. I’ll give ye a quar- 
ter ef ye’ll jest say nuthin’. ” 

' ' Come off that grass /” roars the man. 

So we picked up and started, the young ’uns roarin’. 

We roamed about a spell, and at last we obsarved a kind o’ a 
summer-house. ’Twas painted blue, and had seats inside, and 
steps leadin’ up tu it. Sez Mr. Blinksop, “There’s the spot;’' 
and up we went. ’Twas delightful, and we got out our lunch 
again and sot by. 

This time we had fairly begun tu eat when up comes another 
man dressed in gray, with white gloves. 

“Ef ever I see the like!” sez he. “You come down short 
meter. ” 

“Oh, law!” sez Miss Blinksop. “ Is this here wrong, tu?” 

“Be sure it is,” sez the man. “That ther is the pavilion fur 
music ; and I’ve seen impidence before, but never the beat o’ 
this. ” 

Sez I, “We’ll be through in half an hour; can’t ye wait?” 

“No,” sez he. “ I’ll walk the whole bilin’ o’ ye off and lock 
ye up ef ye don’t skedaddle. ” 

So down we come. We was purty miserable by this time ; 
but arter a while we tound an arbor and was allowed to finish 
there. The rice puddin’ was sour, and the custard had wobbled 
over, and some how another one o’ those tobacker worms had got 
intu the pickles, and Mr. Blinksop come near eatin’ him by 
mistake, he looked so much like a cowcumber. Mebbe he 
would hev hed a bite only Amazonia hollers : 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 




. ‘‘Pa, your cowcumber has got horns and eyes/' and arrested 
on him arter 'twas on his fork. 

What was sour we pitched intu the grass, and feelin' refreshed 
continered our meandering. 

We came to several tombstones, one on 'em tu the memory o' 
one Mr. S. C. Hiller with his head a-top on't. I asked Mr. 
Blinksop who he was, and he said he reckoned he'd invented 
suthin'. Soon arter we arrived tu the flower garding. I had an 
empty basket along, and sez I : 

‘‘Now, I tell you what, Mr. Blinksop, the lady I'm residin' 
with is anxious fur tu hev a garding, and I'm goin' tu take some 
slips and roots hum, " 

“I'm goin' tu hev a boky," sez she. 

So I borrers Mr. Blinksop's knife, and she gets out her scis- 
sors, and tu work we goes. 

I had a lot o' petunys, and a dozen head o' dew plant, and 
some rose-slips, when there was the awfullest yellin', and up 
rushes two other men in gray, wavin' their white gloves like mad. 

“What du you mean by this?" sez one. 

“Lor'," sez I, “I'm only takin' a few o' these here flowers 
hum." 

“Air you crazy ?" sez he. 

''Kir you /' sez I. 

He catches up the basket and begun stickin' the roots back, 
and the other grabs me. I yelled murder. 

“I'll arrest you," sez he. 

Sez Mr. Blinksop, “Now don't ye — there^s a good man. I 


272 


THE GRINDER PAPERS: 


wouldn't hev done it ; and women folks tricks ain't o' no ac- 
count. The Lord ain’t gin ’em no great amount o' mind, and 
we’d orter feel tu pity 'em. " 

The man groaned. 

Sez he, “ Won’t you meddle with nuthin' more ?" 

Sez I, ''No; keep your old flowers, who keers?" 

Then he took away Miss Blinksop's posy, and we got shet o' 
him. 

Miss Blinksop wept. 

"Don’t,” sez I. "These here myrmydons o' power allers 
does take airs when they get a chance. No doubt they're a par- 
sel o' upstarts. Don't you mind 'em.” 

Then we meandered on. 

Arter a while we come tu a bridge overlookin' the water. 
There was boats sailin' about, and we admired the scene amaz- 
in'. Amazonia she climbed up, and peeked over. 

There never was such a pesky gal, I du believe. Miss Blink- 
sop sez as sure as she goes anywhere she gets intu some mischief. 
This time she lost her balance, and pitched intu the water head 
over heels. 

We all screamed, and up run a couple more o' the people in 
gray, got out a boat, and reskied her. 

She warn’t drowned, but the minute she come out she took a 
chill out o’ spite, and 'twas a mercy Miss Pepper had fetched 
along the blanket-shawl. 

We wrapped her up, and then ther wern’t nuthin' fur it but tu 
go hum. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 273 

Seemed as cf we shouldn’t never find the right gate ; but we 
did at last, and then sez Mr. Blinksop : 

r.l j3St see how't the fare is handy afore we get in,’’ and put 
his hand i» his pocket. 

''Land o’ liberty !” sez he. 

"What is it?” sez Miss Blinksop. 

" It’s gone !” sez he. 

' ' What ?” sez she. 

"My purse!” sez he, "and my specs, and my handkercher, 
and the medal o’ the Agricultural Serciety, that they gin me for 
the biggest pumpkin.” 

"Who took it?” sez she. 

"Well,” sez he, "I’m afeared ’twas the pious young man 
that I had a delightful season o’ conversation with in ,the cars. 
Shouldn't wonder ef he was an imposture. Don’t believe his 
uncle was an elder, and calkerlate he didn’t care no more about 
predestination than his old shoe.” 

"What a wicked place York is?” sez 1. 

"I’m goin’ hum to-morrow,” sez Miss Blinksop ; and so they 
did ; but that arternoon ther warn’t nobody had no change about 
’em, and we had tu foot it, luggin’ the young ’uns and the bas- 
kets. At bast the rest did ; I only carried my numberill. 

As fur the park, my belief is ’twas constituted fur the purpose 
o’ aggravatin’ folks. You can’t du nuthin’ you like, and you 
can’t go nowhere you choose ; and as fur paths, all the good they 
air is tu give them men in gray a chance tu order ye off ’em. 
No power on airth will ever get me there agin, as sure as my 
name is M sj Charity Grinder. " 


274 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


NUMBER . THIRTY-FOUR. 

CHARITY PERFORMS THE PART OF DUENNA. 

It warn’t my fault Nobody could lay it tu me that was in the 
seven senses; but if Miss Wickum chooses tu du it, let her. I 
alludes it tu her ignorance and despises her. She and me is first 
cousins twict removed by marriage. 

We hain’t been over intimate o' late years on account o' her 
residin' in a permiscus way in different countries, Mr. Wickum 
bein' a cappen o' a ship, and she allers insistin' on goin' with 
him. 

‘^Why du you du it, Samanthy?" I've often said tu her, and 
sez she : 

*^Land o' liberty I ef you knowed seafarin' men like I du, 
you wouldn't ask. I ain't goin' tu have the cappen committin' 
burglary by unitin' in the bonds o' matermony with no eend o' 
wives so long as I can prevent it." 

So she used tu go along o' him until he retired on a handsome 
property for good. By that time Neptuny had about growed up. 
She was their only gal. Ef she'd been a boy the cappen was 
sot on namin' her Neptune, and bein' o' the gal sect he come as 
near tu it as he could. They'd kep' her at boardin'-school until 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


.275 


she knowed enough, and now th^ fetched her hum. When I 
called on ’em I couldn’t think o’ nothin’ but the way she was 
rigged out. Never seen so much handsome clothes on one gal 
at a time in my life. 

Miss Wickum was dressed, tu — ^yaller and blue head-dress, 
and red striped cashmere dress, and purpled-stoned breastpin, 
and a green belt, and bracelets, and ear-rings, and there warn't 
no color o’ the rainbow she hadn’t intu her parlor. About as 
genteel a house as ever I had the pleasure o’ visitin’ tu. 

Miss Wickum was pleased tu see me, and made me stay a 
week. And the cappen he was sociable, tu ; but Neptuny she 
took airs. She thought herself tu grand tu talk tu anybody but 
some hity-tity, highflyin’ gals that had been tu school with her, 
and made herself perfectly ridiculous. Not keerin’ for her airs, 
I called whenever I felt like it, and me and Miss Wickum en- 
joyed ourselves amazin’. 

One day she come over tu where I was stayin’, airly in the 
mornin’, and sez she : 

'‘Charity, I’ve come tu ask a favor.” 

"Go ahead,” sez I. 

Sez she, "Me and the cappen is a-goin’ tu see his relatives, 
and we ain’t a-goin’ tu take Neptuny. One o’ the reasons is she 
won’t go, and the other she sassed her Aunt Dolphin so last 
time she was on that she wouldn’t have her come ef she would. 
We’re goin’ tu leave her hum, and I want you tu stay there and 
keep an eye onto her.” 


■276 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


** Ain't she old enough to take keer o' herself? sez 1. ‘‘ Air 

you afeard she’ll tumble mtu the fire?" 

^^No," sez she. ^'The trouble is she's /ew old. She’s sot on 
gettin’ married, and she has no eend tu beaus, and they all know 
she'll hev plenty o’ money, and the cappen he's determined she 
sha’n’t hev nobody he don't approve of, and the only one he does 
approve of is his fust mate that used tu be, Cappen Gun that is. 
He’s risin' forty, and purty stout, and Neptuny is so morantic 
she don’t take no shine tu him on them accounts. What me 
and the cappen desires is fur her tu be kept from hevin' any 
. beaus about while we’re gone, and the cappen would find it a 
pleasure, as well as a dooty, for tu donate you a handsome pres- 
ent for your keer o' her ef everything turns out well " 

Sez I, ‘‘I'm sure I'm happy tu obleege." 

And over I went next day. 

Captain Wickum and her was jest startin'. Neptuny was in 
the sulks. 

Sez Miss Wickum, “Mind you entertain Miss Grinder nicely, 
Neptuny, sence she's so good as tu keep you company. " 

Sez Neptuny, “Fur the matter o' that I could keep myself 
company." 

Sez her ma, “Fur shame." 

I only smiled derisive. I could afford for tu disdain her sass, 
knowin' myself above her in intilectibility. 

Sez the cappen, “Now, look a-here, Nep, mind your eye 
while I’m away. You knows the orders; you sail by ’em. No 
lubber is tu put intu harbor here, till / cast anchor again. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


277 

You're tu be towed by Miss Grinder, and only tu cruise where 
she cruises along o' you. Give in a good report on her log, and 
I’ll give you a trunk full o' folderols and jimcracks. Let me 
hear o' a mutiny and I'll hang you tu the yard-arm. Du you 
hear, Nep ?" 

'‘Yes, pa," sez Neptuny. Then he kissed her, and they sot 
off. 

Minute they was gone she pulls a snoot at me, and goes and 
locks herself intu her room, and never come down until dinner 
time. 

Twas a very nice dinner. They had a cook, and a laundress, 
and a chambermaid, and waiter, and a coachman, and footman, 
and things went on the same as if Miss Wickum had been tu 
home. 

Neptuny eat, and never spoke a word. I stood it in dignified 
silence. 'Twas fur her tu be ashamed, not mel* 

That evenin' my trials begun. The first beau called. The 
gal come in tu tell Neptuny. Sez I : 

"Tell the gentleman Miss Neptuny ain't tu be seen." 

Sez she, "Tell him I’ll be down directly." 

Sez I, "Don't you durst du it." 

Sez she, ' ' Pm your mistress. " 

"Well," sez I, "we’ll see." 

So down I goes, lockin' Neptuny in afore I went. 

There was a young man in the front parlor. I marched up 
to him. 

"Who may you be?" sez I, ^ 


27S 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


“Well/' sez he, starin', “my name is— is Jones, old lady." 

Sez I, “Well, Mr. Jones, jest you pick up your hat and walk, 
short meter. I'm left here tu take keer o' Neptuny Wickum, 
and no feller is tu spent his evenin's here while I stay. Neptu- 
ny can't cum down, and you needn't call again. " 

So he walked, lookin' as black as ink, and awfully disgusted. 

Next day there come a note tu Neptuny. She was goin' tu 
read it without showin' it tu me ; but I jest grabbed it. 'Twas 
an invite tu the opery. 

‘ ‘ Well, " sez I, ‘ ‘ you sot down and write how't you can't go. " 

“I sha'nt” sez she. “ I'm not a prisoner." 

Sez I, “I will !" and I sot down and writ an answer. “Give 
that tu the person that fetched the invite, " sez I, and the gal had 
had her orders from Miss Wickum, and did it. 

Neptuny was as mad as hops. I know she'd hev liked tu 
pison me. 

'Twould a made anybody grin fur tu hev seen us arter that. 
I don't suppose we spoke tu each other twice a day, but she was 
always keepin' me on the go. Ef one feller didn't call, another 
did, and at last I had tu speak tu the footman, a good-looking 
fellow, quite spry on his feet. 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ Peter, are you tu be trusted ?" 

Sez he, “Yes'm." 

Sez I, “You know why I'm here, I suppose?" 

“Well," sez he, “they du say the cappen don't approve ot 
Miss Neptuny bein’ courted." 

“Yes," sez I. “Now, Peter, ef she gets off unknownst tu 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


*79 

c 


me, you foller her. Ef any one calls, you come and tell — ^your 
legs is younger than mine, and Ell make you a present before I 
go." 

The footman he bows. Sez he ; 

‘T'll promise you that, ma'am. Til keep my eye on Miss 
Neptuny. She sha'n’t go nowhere without me." 

Arter that I was relieved o' my responsibilitude. He kept his 
promise, and was at her heels the heft o' the time. It made me 
grin. You see she didn't suspect him o' watchin' her, and was 
very sociable, and exhibited a heap o' affabilitude tu him, while 
she was onpleasant tu me. Didn't make no objection to his 
runnin' arter her, fur of course she never knowed I'd spoke tu 
him. She couldn't so much as go intu the hall but there he 
was. I never saw no help so faithful in the discharge o' his 
duties. I made up my mind that ef the cappen did make a 
present o' value tu me. I'd give Peter suthin' handsome. 

Couldn't no feller come tu the door but he knowed it, and 
sent 'em packin'. He fetched all Neptuny 's notes tu me fust, 
and behaved exemplary, and all the time she never got mad at 
him. On the contrary she scarcely spoke to him without smil- 
in'. 'Twas enough tu make yau larf. 

Well, things was progressing jest as the cappen would have 
desired, when Miss Wickum writ how't they were cornin' hum. 
Teu tell the truth, I didn't keer tu hev her du it, Peter hevin' 
taken my responsibilitude on his shoulders, an' me hevin' com- 
fort in the best spare bedroom, with nuthin tu du only ring the 


f86 THE GRINDER PAPERS. 

bell and order things. Neptuny was more good-natured than 
what she had been, tu. 

She comes in that mornin*, and sez she : 

•^Well, Miss Grinder, pa and ma will arrive tu-morrow.'^ 

'‘So they say,'' sez I. 

Sez she, " Twould be a pleasant surprise teu 'em teu go and 
meet ’em." 

"Yes," sez I. 

Sez she, "I’ll hev the carriage, and we’ll go." 

"Du," sez 1. 

So next day the carriage was at the door, the coachman on the 
box, and Peter up behind. They looked magnificent in their 
silver hat-bands, and I resumed all my dignitude, and sot bolt 
up on the yaller cushions. Neptuny sot aside me. I allers shall 
remember how shy her eyes looked, and how red her cheeks 
was, teu my dyin’ day. 

We driv down Broadway a way, the common folks regardin' 
us with envy, until we came tu a big store on a corner, the win- 
ders chock full o' laees. Sez Neptuny, dreadful pleasant ; 

"Lor', Miss Grinder, there’s a collar you'd orter hev.” 

Sez I, ' ' D’ye think so V' 

"Yes," sez she; "I’m goin' tu buy ijt fur ye. Jest stop, 
William, until I get it." 

Out she jumps. I didn’t Toiler, but I sez tu Peter : 

"Your young lady might want you tu carry the parcel." 

He understood, and follered in a hurry. She warn’t a bit 
mad. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


281 ’ 


I sot still in the carriage, and gettin' tired o' waitin', fell asleep. 
Arter a while suthin' waked me. William was a-pokin' me with 
his whip. 

‘‘Beg pardon fur attractin' your attention so impolite," sez 
he. “But ain't they gone too long — Neptuny and Peter? It's 
a full hour." 

“Land o' liberty!" sez I, “I expect she's haulin' down all 
the goods in the store. I'll fetch her. " 

So down I got and went in. Neptuny warn't there. Neither 
was Peter. 

“Miss," sez I to the gal behind the counter, “deu you know 
where the' young lady in lilac silk, that come in that there car- 
riage, is gone teu ?" 

She smiles perlite, and sez she ; 

“No, ma’am ; but she went out o' the side door purty near 
as soon as she came in. She said if a lady asked for her — Miss 
Wickum, ain't it?" 

“Yes," sez I. 

“That I was tu give her these." 

She handed me a parsel, and an envelopy. The first was the 
collar ; the t’other her visitin' card, with these here words writ 
on it : 

“Good-by, Miss Grinder I you've been a splendid duenna, 
and no doubt pa will be ever grateful, as Peter and myself are. 
Before you read this we shall be married, and off upon our wed- 
din' trip. I always said I would make a love match, and I have. 


282 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


Peter and I adore each other, and you have helped us so nicely 
in our courting. By-by — ^you can explain matters to pa. ” 

The minute I read them words I was took with highstrikes. 

William came in and assisted me tu the carriage, and driv me 
hum. 

Arter a while he sez, ‘ ' Beg pardon, miss, what has happened V’ 

‘‘They ve eloped,'’ sez I. 

‘ ‘ Peter and miss ?” sez he. 

“Yes,” sez 1. 

“Well,” sez he, “well, down stairs, allers thought ’twould be 
so. ’Twas pecooliar ; a new footman cornin’ jest arter master 
went, and Peter disappearin’ mysterious. ” • 

“Did he sez I. 

“Yes, miss,” sez he. “The first day he came I saw ’twas 
Mr. Jones, and I mentioned it tu him. But he. requested me 
not tu say nuthin’, and it warn’t my place. Ef he chose tu 
wear Peters old hat-band, I didn’t know as ’twas my business.” 

Sez I, “Don’t tell me that this here was a conspiration ?” 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ Tm afeard it was, miss. ” 

Sez 1, “What will the cappen say?” 

Sez he, “What I ask myself is, whatdl he du? He may be- 
gin byshootin’ ’em ; that’s handy.” 

I considered. 

Sez I, “It don’t make no difference where you drive?” sez I. 

“No,” sez he, “of course not, miss.” 

Sez I, “Stop tu Miss Peabody’s, then; I’ll git out there.” 
And I did. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


283 


I hain't seen the cappen sence, but Miss Wickum called and 
used langwidge I sha'n't contaminate myself by repeatin'. One 
o’ her remarks was how’t I was a born fool ; another, that I 
warn’t fit tu go loose without a keeper. 

‘Everybody else in the house knowed Mr. Jones,” she said, 
“and Peter was paid fifty dollars tu stay away, and had a place 
now with the Jonesses.” 

I didn’t mind her abuse ; but I allers hev been respected fur 
my sagacitude and discretion, and I warn’t a-goin’ tu hev ’em 
disim peached. I jest ordered her out o’ the house, and I hope 
never tu sot eyes on her agin. 

Anybody o’ sense would a-knowed I was the victim o’ a con- 
spiratude, and not tu blame 


284 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


NUMBER THIRTY-FIVE. 

PERFECT LOVE IS OFFERED TO MISS GRINDER. 

York, as Ive allers said, and still continner tu say, is a most 
awful place. Beauty is a snare anywhere, but ef you air per- 
tickeler good-lookin’ in York, you’re stared at as ef you was a 
peep show, and follered arter as ef you was an organ. I dursen’t 
go out no more, without a double vail, fur my phizmahogany is 
one what detracts intentions from the gentlemen, and ef I Qould 
tell ye how the heft o’ ’em has conducted tu me you’d be as- 
tonished. 

The one that has annoyed me the wust is a furrin purson, o’ 
dark complected appearance, with whiskers and a mustache. 

I went out a Monday mornin’ fur to preamble, fur the good 
o’ my constitootion. I was conscious o’ bein’ pecooliarly capti- 
vatin’ in my appearances, and I wore my salmon-colored shawl 
and pea-green bunnet-strings, which I allers did become. I 
pranced along with the dignitude o’ a queen, and didn’t conde- 
scend fur tu give none o’ the men sect a glance, and ’twasn’t my 
conduct what injuced him fur tu redress me. By him I mean 
the furriner. First thing I know^ed, he was alongside me. 

'‘Miss,” sez he. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


285 


I paid no attention. 

"‘Mum/' sez he. 

I retreated. 

Madame” sez ne, and then I flewed. When it come tu 
French, I knowed morals was furever gone. 

Never said a word to him ; but the next day, meandering in- 
the same spot, I saw him once agin — bold as brass, with a little 
bag onto his arm, and a eye-glass intu his eye. I attempted fur 
tu escape, but up he come. 

''Miss,’' sez he agin. 

I hurried away faster. 

"Mum,” sez he jest as before. 

I cast a glance o’ remittigated scorn ontu him, but he went on. 

' ' Madame, lis’en to me. ” 

"Begone, feller,” sez I, and I flowed once more. 

Next day I said tu Samanthy Peagrim, ' ' Samanthy, supposin’ 
you was a lady o’ personal detractions, and was tu be submitted 
tu the unremittigated intentions o’ a furrin count, what would ye 
du 

"Dunno but I’d hev him,” sez she. 

"Lor’ !” sez I. " Yeu get out, Samanthy I Suppose his in- 
tentions was disagreeable tu ye?” 

"Well,” sez she, "I’d tell him tu clear out.” 

"Very well,” sez I ; "but, Samanthy, supposin’ he wouldn’t 
clear?” 

"Dunno what I should du then,” sez she. 

So, seein’ I couldn’t get no advice, I determined fur tu rely 


286 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 

upon my own sagacitude. How could I expect Samanthy tu 
understand the trials o' a person o' superior personal detractions. 
'Tain't likely she was ever bothered. 

That day I went out agin. L had some shoppin' tu du, or I 
wouldn't hev gone. I made my purchases in safety, but as I 
was a cornin' out, up steps that same furrin gentleman. I 
thought I should hev swounded. 

''Miss," sez he. 

"You go way," sez I. 

"Mum," sez he. 

"Don't you dare redress me," sez I. 

"Madame," sez he, "only lis'en one leetle minute." 

• " No, " sez I ; • not fur worlds. " 

I walks on, and he follers. Arter a while, sez he : 

"Madame, please you stop." 

Sez I, "No, sir; what do you think of me?” and I walks 
on. 

Arter a while, sez he, "I have one leetle sing to say to ma- 
dame. " 

' ' Don't you durst say it, " sez I. 

" Madame," sez he, "pause you one small time." 

I turned around, and looked at him — gin him a most an awful 
glance. 

Sez I, "Clear out ; I know yeu furriners. I don’t want nuth- 
in' tu say tu ye, " and then I rushed intu a trimmin' store. 

"Ma'am," sez I to the lady behind the counter, " I've flowed 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


287 


here fur purtection. A most an awful furriner is persecutin' me 
with his detentions." ^ 

‘ ‘ P'raps he's tipsy, " sez she. 

''He ain't got that excuse," sez 1. 

Arter a while, I looked out, but he was gone ; so I took my 
departer ; but now I knowed fur sartin how the infatooated crit- 
ter was in love with me. 'Twasn' tu be supposed he would fol- 
ler a lady three times unless he was deeply teched by her fascer- 
nations. 

I sot down tu consider. I remembered how't the feelin's o' 
furriners was strong, and how't they often committed suicide. I 
began tu feel tu pity him. "Poor critter," thinks me, "ef I 
should drive him tu distraction's verge, 'twould be tu my blame- 
abillitude ; and," thinks me, "ef he is a count, as they mostly 
air, and has considerable money, and a castle, I don't see why 
I shouldn't hev him. 'Twould be a purty good match, and 
them that has said I couldn't ef I would, would find they was 
mistook, ni hear what he has tu say, ef I ever am follered by 
him agin." 

When I d come tu this decide, I felt more equinamble in my 
sperits, and kriowed I was right ; but fur a fortnight I never sot 
eyes on him, and I began fur tu think he'd committed feller-de- 
spree, and tu hev my doubts whether I hadn't better go tu the 
morg}^, and see ef he warn’t there. 

Ten weeks from that time, I was just cornin' out o' a friend's 
house, when I seen him, black mustache, little bag, and all. 
He rushes up, and sez he ; 


zS8 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘^Madame !” 

‘'Well, sir,” sez I, “what do you want?” 

Sez he, “I have something particular for madame. ” 

“ Dunno what it kin be?” sez I. 

“ It is de perfect love, ” sez he. 

“ Yeu go 'way,” sez I ; “I don't believe it." 

“It is the best ting ever was,” sez he. 

“I prefer tu hev my liberty,” sez I. “The bonds o' matri- 
monial ferlicity hain'r never had no detractions fur me. ” 

He bows, and sez he, “It presairves de charms of youth 
most mi-r-r-r-raculously. ” 

“Well,'’ sez I, “I dunno about that. I know the heft o’ 
young married ladies is clean tuckered out with housework, 
and the help, and the sewing on her husband’s buttons, and 
sottin' up fur him — hain't got no complexions at all.” 

He looked puzzled, until I came tu the last word, then sez he : 

“Ze complexion is of value.” 

“Yes,” sez I. 

“Nos’ing like it fur de beauty of de lady,” sez he. “ If you 
will accept dis perfect love, you shall be most happy. ” 

“Oh,” sez I, “how du I know but you may be an impos- 
ture.?” 

“Madame !” sez he 

“Mebby yeu cheaty me,” sez I, adaptin' myself tu his furrin 
understandin' o' the 'Merican langwidge.” 

“Upon my honor,” sez he, “dis is de genuine — de reg'lar 
French article, mum.” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


289 


You air a French gentleman sez L 

‘‘Yes, madame,” sez he. 

“Bin here long?'' sez I. 

“Since misfortune drive me from my countrie," sez he. 

“I feel tu pity yeu," sez I. 

Then he said so'thing I couldn't understand about havin' 
mercy, I believe." 

Sez I, “Yeu know yeu air a perfect stranger. Dunno what 
my brother'd say ; he'd ask what ye air worth." 

“ Silver plate I" sez he. Sounded like that, with the “t" left 
off, as a furriner might any way. 

“Well," sez I, “silver plate is a good thing." 

He looked kinder puzzled. 

Sez he, “Yeu take my perfect love, madame?" 

‘ ‘ It's tu sudden ; I'd hev tu consider, " sez I. 

“You nevair have ze ozer opportunity," sez he, lookin so 
interestin', with his eves cast up. 

I sithed. 

“Madame will say ‘yes," sez he. 

“Oh, dear, no !" sez I. 

“When you look at it leetle while, you will change the mind," 
sez he. “Observe I" and he put his hand intu the portemantle, 
and pulled out a yaller paper. 

“What on airth is that?" sez 1. 

“ It is ze ‘ Perfect Love' — ze best enamel for ze skin evair 
manufacture," sez he. “When madame shall use it, she shall 
become of ze age of sixteen — she shall break every heart. Only 


290 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


fifty cents a box. Madame shall purchase. Now madame finds 
ze skin leetle yallow, zis shall recovair it. It shall make old 
person like ze young. I take plazair in selling it to madame. '' 

I hollered out. 

You imposture sez I, ‘ ‘ is this what you Ve bin follerin' 
me for 

Sez he, “Sartinly." 

Sez I, ‘‘ Yeu triflin' puppy, du you mean tu call me old — tu 
tell me tu my face Td orter paint .? How du yeu know Fm 
more n sixteen ? I hain't told ye. Yeu git out, or Til call a 
perlice !" and I ups with my numberill, and he flowed. 

Arter he was gone, I went intu Nehemiah Schubbs', and had 
highstrikes ; and tu the day o' my death I shall beware o' fur- 
riners worse than I have before, especially them that has mus- 
taches. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


291 


NUMBER THIRTY-SIX. 

MISS GRINDER MAKES A MISTAKE. 

How du you du, Perliny ? Surprised tu see me, hain’t ye } 
Look as if ye'd seen a ghost. Well, I calkerlate ’tis astonishin' 
I ve lived to git here, arter all the perils that unpertected females 
experience in York. Eve been robbed, and murdered, and kid- 
napped, and follered hum, and last Saturday I was eloped with. 

You may well say ‘^gracious suz I sed more than that 
myself I didn't encourage his intentions — not me. I was 
brung up different. Besides, he was a young feller o' no great 
o' intilectability, and no match fur me ; fur you know, Perliny, 
that intilectertude is what I've been celebrated fur since I took 
the gold medal ('twan't gold, neither, come to test it — all a 
sham) at the Peekskill College o' young ladies. He was pec(S)0- 
liarly conceited, tu ; pertickerly on account o' his mustache ; 
and he smelt o' smoke. 

I was boarding with Miss Tifflin. She takes gentlemen tu 
breakfast and tea. Such tea, Perliny ! The color o' your hair, 
and that’s the meanest yaller going. She's got tew darters — 
hity-tity things ; one on 'em Elvira, and t'other o' my name, 
Charity. Them and me didn't get along very nicely. Men 


292 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


and hity-titys don’t in gineral. I hev to tell ’em what I think of 
’em, and that they don’t like. But I du admire tu du it, Perli- 
ny — indeed I dew. 

Used to talk to Elvira about tuckering about rigged out in 
tu-meetin s the heft o’ the time ; and I used to tell Charity 
mighty plain what I thought o’ ’em that put on false hair and 
paint to detract the men sect. They was aggravatin’ gals. You 
couldn’t hev no interestin’ conversation o’ an intilectable natur’ 
without them stickin’ in their oars. In pertickler, when Mr. 
Parmlee used to hurry up intu the parlor tu converse with me, 
one or t’other on ’em used fur tu follow and interlude, as if they 
was invited. 

Consequentially, I warn’t astonished one day fur tu hev the 
chambermaid come to me sly, with a note in her hand. 

Miss Charity,” sez she, '‘sure the young gintleman bade 
me give you this in sacresy. ” 

"Very well,” sez I ; "leave it, Bridget,” and she left it. 

I felt my buzzum palpitatin’. I kinder knowed what was 
cornin’, and I tore open the envelopy. ’Twas a gentleman’s 
handwritin’, and these here was the words : 

"Dear, dear Miss Charity : Can I never have a word alone 
with you } Must I always endure the persecuting presence of 
that torment P For mercy's sake leave the table early, and meet 
me for one hour alone. 

"Your exasperated, despairing, devoted 

"PiGwiGGiN Parmlee.” 

"Poor fellow,” thinks me. "I can’t hev the heart fur tu 
disdain bis intentions arter this here disposure o’ the tenderest 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


293 


feelin's o' his natur. I will give him the opportune he desider- 
ates. " 

So I went tu dinner, detarmined fur tu dew as he asked. 

When 'twas time fur puddin' I riz up, and sez I : 

“No puddin’ fur me. Miss Tifflin. I'm kinder indigestable 
tu-day, and am obleeged tu dietary," and I sailed out o' the 
room. 

Pigwiggin Farm lee he wasn't tu table at all ; as I expected he 
was in the parlor. 

“Evenin', Mr. Parmlee," sez I, a-castin' down my eyes. 

“Oh, gracious!" sez he, and begun walkin' up and down, 
runnin' his hands through his hair. 

“You seem to be agitationed, Mr. Parmlee," sez L 

What he would have said 'tain't fur me tu say, fur at that 
minute in comes that^Miss Charity Tifflin. 

I h'ists my eyebrows. ‘ ‘ Got through airly, " sez I. 

Sez she, “Not airlier than some folks.” 

“Well," sez I, “some folks has a right tu du what they like, 
I reckon." 

“So has some other folks,” sez she. 

Sez I, “When I was young, gals didn't conduct so." 

She turned up her nose. 

I tuk up a paper and devolved myself in literary affairs. She, 
the bold critter, went and sot along o' Mr. Parmlee on the sofy. 

Arter a while the other boarders cum in, and I retired tu my 
own apartment. 

About four o'clock that arternoon Bridget cums tu rne with a 


294 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


note. It hadn’t no direct on tew it, and sez I, ''How du you 
know this here is fur me N 

"Well,” sez she, "I reckon it is, because Mr. Parmlee sez, 
'Take this tew Miss Charity.’” 

"It’s all right,” sez I, and I opens it. 

I a’most swounded when I read the contents. These was 
them : 

"Charity, My Angel : Shakespeare has said 'the course of 
true love never did run smooth.’ So it is with ours, I believe. 

I know who, and you know who is employed as a spy by Mrs. . 
Tifflin. Some one has betrayed us. You know her cruel words 
— ‘a young man that can’t pay his own debts regular ought not 
to marry.’ We have no hope but in flight.” 

"Pretty fur Miss Tifflin tew interfere with me,” sez I tew my- 
self. Then I read on : 

"Tu-night, at twelve, a cab will be at tlj^e door. I have made 
arrangements fur our wedding. Fly with me, and in an hour 
pursuit will be useless. 

"Yours, with adoration, Pigwiggin.” 

"Tell Mr. Parmlee how’t Miss Charity is agreeable tew his 
proposition,” sez I. 

Sez she, " Yis, miss.” 

I was in a state o’ mind that can’t be descriptioned fur the rest 
o’ the day. But I felt it tew be my juty fur tu bear up. And 
then I felt tew rejice how’t Mr. Jonathan and his hity-tity wife 
would see how’t I warn’t goin’ tew leave my property tew them 
and theirn. And folks that had said I couldn’t if I would, 
would be astonished. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


295 


I didn’t durst look at Pigwiggin at tea time ; and when the 
solemn hour o' twenty minutes tew twelve arriv, I packed up tew 
linen and one cotton, and some collars in a handkercher, and 
put on my hood, and vail, and a big shawl, and down stairs I 
went. 

The house was locked up, and the boarders snorin', and it 
was pitch dark out o' doors. I goes on. There was a cab, and 
the door opened. 

I goes toward it. 

‘‘Charity," sez a voice. 

‘ ‘ Pigwiggin, " sez I, smothered by emotions and my vail. 

He puts out his hand and draws me in. I sots down beside 
him. 

Sez he, “Drive tu the direction I gave you, driver," and 
away we driv. 

Purty soon he puts his arm around my waist. 

“You go 'way," sez I. 

“Oh, Charity!" sez he. 

Then he kisses me. 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ Don't you durst. " 

Sez he, “How queer your voice sounds to-night. Have you 
a cold?" 

Sez I, ‘ ‘ It's agitation. " 

“Oh I" sez he. 

Arter a while sez he, “You don't feel frightened?" 

Sez I, “No, Pigwiggin. " 

“Adorable angel," sez he. 


296 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Sez I, ‘ ' Oh ! you go way. ” 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ Gracious ! ” 

Sez I, “What?'' 

Sez he, “Am I crazy?" 

“I hope not," sez 1. 

Sez he, “ Who are you ?" 

“ Your Charity," sez I. 

“Charity what?" sez he. 

“Hey?" sez I. 

“Hang the dark," sez he. 

“’Tain't agreeable," sez I. 

“Heavens and airth !" sez he. 

“ What ails ye ?" sez 1. 

“Tell me your hull name?" 

“Thought you knew it. I ain't got no middle name, '^ sez I. 
“Your name," sez he. 

“Why, Charity Grinder," sez I. 

“I thought so," sez he. 

“Of course you did," sez 1. 

“ How did you come here ?" sez he. 

“Got in," sez I. 

“Why?" sez he. 

“Because you was so soton't," sez I. 

“Explain," sez he. 

“Why," sez I, “you writ me a couple o' letters disclosin' 
your feelin's, and I’m a-goin' fur tu keep 'em, tew, and I de- 
cisioned tu elope with you in kinsequence. I've broke enough 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


297 


hearts in my time, Fm sorry tu say. Didn't want tu hev your'n 
on my conscience. " 

Sez he, Here's a pickle." 

Sez I, ‘‘You've done it o' your own doin's." 

Sez he, “Miss Grinder, here’s a most awful mistake.” 

“Du tell 1” sez I. “What is it?” 

“I thought she was you. I mean you was she. That is, I 
meant those letters fur Miss Charity Tifflin,” sez he. 

“Perjured villain !” sez I. 

“I hain't,” sez he. 

“You air,” sez I. 

Sez he, “I said Miss Charity, and Bridget made a mistake 
and gin you the note.” 

I went off intu highstrikes. « 

He jumps out o' the cab. 

“Take this here lady back again,” sez he tu the driver, and 
he skedaddled. 

So I went hum, and as true as my name is Charity Grinder 
Tm goin' tu have a case o' breach o' promise agin him, Perliny. 


298 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER THIRTY-SEVEN. 

MISS GRINDER SECURES A LAWYER. 

Miss Grinder : ‘‘Lawyer Perkins in ? You he? LorM — 
don't say nuthing, jist give me a cheer and let me sot down. 
The State o’ my wounded feelin's is sich that Pm tremblin' like 
a leaf. But I'm goin' tu command 'em sufficient tu tell you the 
hull, and I hope you'll take pertickeler notice o' what I say. 
Never gin him no hopes and 'twas all his own duin', and ef 'twas 
possible tu hev him hung I'd du it. " 

Lawyer Perkins : “To whom du you allude, mum?" 

Miss G. : “To that wretch Pigwiggin Parmlee." 

Lawyer P. : “Indeed, mum — as you very truly observe, a 
wretch, mum — a wretch ; and in what way did he in this partic- 
ular instance manifest the baseness of his soul ? May I be al- 
lowed to inquire, mum." 

Miss G. : “Well, Lawyer Perkins, fust and fomost he paid 
me the most undoubterble intentions, and then he sithed, and 
then he writ, and then he perposed an elopement, and then when 
we'd got half way he backed out and left me tu go hum alone 
and pay the coach hire. " 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


299 

Lawyer P. : “Mum, you shock me. I have heard of base 
ingratitude before, I have heard of cowardly and contemptible 
behavior before, but never in all my professional experience have 
I encountered anything to equal this. I give you my word of 
honor as a gentleman and a scholar, mum, I do indeed. Allow 
me to offer you a palm-leaf fan, and a glass of water ; I regret 
the absence of ice. Horrible conduct, unworthy of the name 
of man, or even of the gorilla, mum, I do assure you.'' 

Miss G. : “Thought you'd thunk so, lawyer. Ef I'd had 
more experience in this here horrid world. I'd hev knowed what 
he was, but you see. I’ve got one o' them there angelic disposi- 
tions that don’t suspect nobody until I've diskivered their inik- 
wity, and bein' ruther young and considerabul affectionate, I 
gin him the hull emotions o' my buzzum afore I knowed he 
warn't worthy. " 

Lawyer P. : “Ah, mum, I understand you; I can see the 
whole. I have often had reason to exclaim in the course of my 
profession : the man wEo could trample on the bleeding heart 
of voman, mum, must be a wretch indeed, mum. I hope you 
have a case, mum." 

Miss G. : “Hey! Why, land o^ liberty! ef I hain't who 
h3.s? Tell ye I was half eloped with and then jilted." 

Lawyer P. : “You make my blood curdle in my veins, mum. 

I made this inquiry in a legal sense. A brutal jury, mum, re- 
quire proof They trample on the tenderest feelings of the 
soul, mum, and demand proofs and witnesses, mum. " 

Miss G. : “ I’ve got them^ thank goodness. There's the coach- 


300 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


man — TVe got his number — and all the boarders, and all the 
folks Tve told it tu, and it s here in my pocket in black and 
white. Here they air, tew notes, one on 'em requestin' a inter- 
view and t'other an elopement. " 

Lawyer P. : Allow me to look at them, mum Excellent, 
mum ; the very thing. Ah, Mr. Pigwiggin Parmlee, we shall 
see, sir, whether you are to break the unsuspecting female heart 
at your will, sir ! The only trouble we lawyers have is that in 
such cases as these, mum, where we would like to labor for the 
cause of the softer sez, we are obliged to require a fee — a large 
one often — we don't get much of it. The brutal jury charge us 
heavily ; so does the judge ; so do the other officers, mum. 
And parchment costs so much, and red tape and ink are really 
a frightful price, mum !" 

Miss G. : ‘‘Lor', I kin afford tu pay suthin'." 

Lawyer P. : “I'm rejoiced to hear it, mum. Not that one 
penny will go into my pocket, but for your sake, mum." 

Miss G. : “Yes, I kin afford it. I've got property tu Peeks- 
kill, and twenty thousand in the bank, and a ile farm. I'd like 
tu hev him hung. I'd be willin' tu pay double fur that. Not 
out o’ no sperit o' revenge, but bekase I'd like tu hev him made 
a warnin' o' tu the men sect." 

Lawyer P. : “I applaud your motives, mum. But a brutal 
jury, mum, and an inhuman judge, mum, refuse to punish such 
traitors as they deserve ; but we can make him disgorge his ill- 
gotten gold, mum, and he will suffer, mum, Such base wretches 
always have their hearts in their pockets, mum." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


301 


Miss G. : ‘‘Well, I reckon he hain't got nuthin^ else there, 
for he don't pay his board reg’lar. But, now, look here, couldn't 
ye put him in the States Prison ?" 

Lawyer P. : “We will strive and do so, mum. He defrauded 
you, I think, of the coach hire ?" 

Miss G. : “Yes, sir — a dollar-and-a-half. Shouldn't a paid 
it only he was swearin' horrid outside the house at the solemn 
hour o' half-past one. " 

Lawyer P. : “Horrible! horrible! Ahem! Did you say, 
mum, you're full property was in the neighborhood of Peeks- 
kill?" 

Miss G. : “ Law, yes ; and my money is in the Brewers' and 
Bakers' Bank. Don’t use much on't. My rents is consider- 
able for a lone young lady. Don't expect I shill ever unite intu 
the bonds o' pardnership with nobody now. My feelin's is so 
disgusted with the men sect !" 

Lawyer P. : “Allow me, mum, to assert that all men are not 
the villains this wretch has proved himself, mum. " 

Miss G. : “Well, p'raps not; but I'm kinder sot agin 'em. 
Tu be harf aloped with is aggravatin'." 

Lawyer P. : “Heart-breaking, mum. Ah ! had I been in his 
place, mum, I , but no matter — no matter! You are for- 

ever disgusted with the sex to which I have the misfortune to 
belong, mum." 

Miss G. : “Lor', don't go a thinkin' I allude such conduct tu 
you. Probably you've got a pardner a'ready. " 

Lawyer P. : “No, mum, no. I am that most wretched of 


502 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


all beings, mum, an old bachelor, mum. There was an angel 
— but no matter, mum, except that I must be allowed to re- 
mark that the outline of your countenance reminds me of her, 
mum. She was all grace and beauty.'' 

Miss G. ; allers du feel tu pity bachelders, they ginerally 
suffer so fur want o' a congemalate companionship o' the wim- 
min sect, and the heft o' ther buttons is off." 

Lawyer P. : ^‘Ah, you little know, mum." 

Miss G. ; Yes, I du. Ther was bachelder Owl. He lived 
alone in rooms tu Peekskill. They was all stuck up with dirt, 
such a nasty place I never did see, and he lived on bread, and 
bologny, and beer, because he couldn't cook nuthin'." 

Lawyer P. : ‘‘Unhappy wretch! But the circumstance of 
your case, mum. Allow me tu ask a few questions. How did 
the wretch unworthy of the name of man, mum, find an excuse 
for his conduct, mum ?" 

Miss G. : “He didn't make none." 

Lawyer P. : “I beg your pardon. But I presume there was 
a quarrel." 

Miss G. : “No, ther warn't. He hadn't no excuse. He writ 
tu me tu elope, and I felt tu be afraid how't ef I didn't exceed 
tu his request he'd go and commit feller-de-spree, as some has 
Tve been cruel tu. " 

Lawyer P. : “ I can understand their emotions, mum. Well, 
mum 

Miss G : “Well, I tuk some things along o' me and went 
out tu the cab when it arriv, and entered, and Pigwiggin fust 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


303 


felt tu rejice how’t Td come, said he did anyhow, and made 
manifestations o' kissin' me, which I rejected with dignitude, 
and then he went and pretended he didn't know me, and said, 

' Driver, drive this here lady hum, ' and skedaddled. Ef ever 
there was a promise o'* breach this is one. " ^ 

Lawyer P. : ‘'Ah, me, we will have him, mum. My blood 
boils when I think of him, mum. And you have witnesses. 
We will take the list, mum." 

Miss G. : “Yes, there's Miss Tifflin, the lady o' the house, 
and her darters, and Miss Smith, and Miss Brown, and Bridget 
Gallager, and the coachman, and the rest I've told on't. " 

Lawyer P. : “Dear me, mam, a formidable list indeed. I 
trust we shall have more than Pigwiggin expects to confront him 
with. Will you favor me with your address, mum. Thank 
you ; I shall call on you to-morrow, and we shall probably re- 
member more of this heart-blighting perfidy, mum. These let- 
ters are precious evidence, mum. We shall have a sad pleasure 
in collecting evidence, mum. You will be at home at three. I 
I shall do myself the pleasure of calling then. " 

Miss G. : “Du. I shill recollect more then ; my feelin's 
kind o' obfusticates me jist now." 

Lawyer P. : “ Naturally, naturally, mum. But, mum, allow 
me to observe, the worst of this villain's conduct — the worst 
consequence I mean — is, that you abhor my unhappy sex. " 

Miss G. : “Well, I dunno, but I'll a'tempt fur tu obviate my 
dislike tu 'em. 'Tain't fair fur tu sot agin all because one hain't 
turned out rights I know. ” 


304 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Lawyer P. : ‘‘No, mum, no. It is not fair, mum, to men 
who, like myself, adore your sex, mum. Take my arm, mum 
— the stairs are steep — and allow me to see you to the door. 
Better, mum, to suffer than to be the wretch who stabs." 

Miss G. : “Yes, I hevthe conscientiousness o' rektertude fur 
tu sustain me. When my bography is writ, them that hain't 
appreciated me will see how’t IVe bore all my trials with digni- 
tude, and have been a model tu my sect. " 

Lawyer P. “Yes, mum. I shall remember your high moral 
character, mum ; I shall place it before the court ; I feel great 
joy, mum, in conducting a case for one so worthy. To-morrow 
we shall meet again, mum. Adieu. I cannote sooth your 
breaking heart, mum, for mine is breaking too, mum ; be care- 
ful of the step. Au revoir, mum." 

Miss G. : “Good-by. It's comfortin' fur tu meet a conge- 
nialate sperit intu this vale o' bothers." 

Lawyer P. : “It is indeed. But it makes it harder to return 
to a fireside, mum, unblest, mum, by the presence of lovely wo- 
man, mum." 

Miss G. : “Lor', now, why don't you select a pardner ?" 

Lawyer P. : “Because, mum, the one whose grace, dignity, 
and excellence have won my heart, has been rendered averse to 
thoughts of union by the perfidy of one villain, mum — unwor- 
thy even of the name of Pigwiggin ; but I speak too boldly, I 
see, mum. Let me retire before I commit myself further. 
Pardon me, mum." 

Miss G. ; “ Lor', you're very excusable.” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


305 


Lawyer P. : Thank you, mum ; adieu, mum. We shall 
meet again to-morrow, mum. How I shall look forward to to- 
morrow. Adieu.” 

Miss Grinder departs. 

Lawyer P. : ‘‘Nice little property ; pretty good sum in bank ; 
even with female attached it would be better than this dirty office 
and no client. Til do it. But Til see what can be got out of 
the Pigwiggin case first. There was Chouse, who conducted the 
case of Heart versus Jilter, and married the plaintiff; the case 
brought him enough to furnish a house with, and the expenses 
of the bridal tour.” 


3o6 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER THIRTY-EIGHT. 

CHARITY IS ENGAGED TO A MEMBER OF THE BAR. 

Lawful suz 1 air this you, Tabby Mouser ? Who'd a thunk it ! 
How yaller you air lookin’ ; ain’t you well 1 Glad tu hear how’t 
you air, but I wouldn’t a supposed you was. Didn’t know as 
I’d speak tu ye when I fust saw ye — I felt so consarned about 
bein’ the talk o’ the hull o’ Peekskill. What should they talk 
about } Why, land o’ liberty ! don’t you know I shouldn’t 
hev reckoned how’t there was a critter there as hadn’t had me in 
ther mouths ; but then you’ve ben travelin’. I’d like tu hev the 
patron o’ that gownd. I’m goin’ tu travel, tew. ’Tain’t be- 
comin’ tu your shape, you are so slab-sided, but ’twould be tu 
mine. 

Where am I goin’ ? Why, onto a weddin’ tower, of course. 
I’m goin’ tu be united into the bonds o’ matermony with a legal 
lawyer o’ New York — one o’ the fust o’ his perfession — name o’ 
Perkins. He’s a very elegant man, and the way he cum tu 
manerfest his intentions was pecooliar. 

You see, I was a boardin’ tu a fashionable boardin’-us, and 
there I was infested with the admerations o’ a number o’ gentle- 
men, though I treated 'em with onparalleled scorn. However, 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


307 


one on 'em had the art tu make a fav’rable depression ontu me> 
and arter he had writ a thousand notes tu me, and gone ontu 
his knees and threatened tu commit feller-de-spree, I dissented 
tu elope with him. 

Don't never trust no men critters. Tabby. Their vows isn't 
worth nothin'. Guess what was my feelin's when, arter conde- 
scendin' tu go off with the critter, and actilly bein' in the car- 
ridge, he changed his senterments and left me, half eloped with, 
tu go hum alone. Nat'rally I felt tu be anxious tu punish him, 
and I called on a legal lawyer fur tu constitute perceedin’s o' a 
breach o' promise o' marriage libel suit. The gentleman I per- 
chanced tu call ontu was lawyer Perkins, and the fust moment 
he saw me he devoted himself tu me. He hadn't no occasion 
fur tu explain his feelin's fur a spell, but he says he exasperated 
'em a-toilin' in my cause. He had the gentleman (I wouldn't 
mention his name on no account) cotcht fur me, and found out 
how't he hadn't nothin', and didn't expct tu hev nothin', and 
owed his board bill, and his tailor, and his shoemaker, and was 
jest married on the sly tu the landlady's darter. And he told me 
how't a onfeelin' judge and jury wouldnt hang him, and how, 
even if we was tu get hold on his ring and watch, they warn't 
gold and dimonts, but only granite and plumbago, or suthin' o' 
those naturs, and ther warn't no way tu recompense my wounded 
feelin's in a pecooniary way. ‘‘Only," sez he, a-gettin' ontu 
his knees — we was alone in his office — “only, my dear madam 
— or, rather, my dear miss — there is ways tu heal the wounds o' 
the heart o' a tender natur'." 


3o8 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘‘Dunno what you kin mean/’ sez 1. 

Sez he, ‘ ‘ By acceptin’ o’ the devotion o’ another. ” 

''Deu tell,” sez I. ''Butihain’t had another offered tu 
me. ” 

Sez he, ‘‘It air.” 

Sez I, “You air mistook.” 

Sez he, “Behold me at your feet, mum.” 

“What hevyou got down there fur.?” sez L 
“Tu offer you my hand and heart,” sez he. 

“Deu go 'way,” sez I. “I don’t place no faith in the men 
sect no more. ” 

Sez he, “You wrong 'em, mum.” 

Sez I, “No, I don’t — like as not you’d act like the other crit- 
ter.” 

Sez he, “ Hear me swear.” 

Sez I, “Don’t you durst use no bad langwidge.” 

Sez he, “I intenc^d tu say, mum, believe me on oath, 
mum.” 

Sez I, “No, Lawyer Perkins, my heart is turned tu stun.” 
Sez he, ‘ ‘ Let adoration soften it. ” 

Sez I, “Oh, don’t I Your unmitigated intentions only dis- 
tresses me.” 

Sez he, “ Don’t say that — give me hope.” 

“Hope o’ what.?” sez 1. 

“That you will become Mrs. Perkins,” sez he. 

Sez I, “Spare my blushes,” and I swounded. 

This here is my engagement ring. It was a present tu Law- 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


309 


yer Perkins from a clientude what he divorced, so't he could 
marry another wife. It's got a pearl intu it — a pearl dug out o' 
the mines o' Golcondy, Lawyer Perkins sez. 

Now, seein' you air here, s'posin' you be bride-maid, and 
s'posin' you go along o' me tu the dressmaker's. I ginerally 
make for myself, but on this here occasion I shill hev tu make 
a pertickeler spludge, seein' we're tu be united tu a church, and 
pro'bly the hull o' Fifty aveny will turn out tu see the spectacu- 
lar. Hope they won't hev nuthin' in the papers about the beauty 
o' the bride. It's so annoyin' and confusin' tu them o' retirin' 
sentiments tu read critikems about ther looks. Seems tu me if 
I'd been Queen Victory's darter I'd gin up. Ther was columbs 
on columbs o' descriptives o' her appearance when she was mar- 
ried. I hope they won't treat me so. 

Ain't do danger ? — they let common folks alone.? Why, Tab- 
by, I guess ther's as much danger as when any other detractive 
person comes before the public ; and I'd hev you remember a 
legal lawyer's lady ain't common folks. 

Is my espouzed young or old.? Well, Tabby, he's arriv at the 
fascernatin' period o' middlin' life, neither one nor t'other. He's 
a fine figger o' a man, and the only fault I find is, his nose is 
ruther long, and he ain't got no shirt collar. I shall make him. 
wear 'em, though, arter we are one. My weddin' dress is tu be 
a pale laylock. I had it took up tu the dressmaker's yesterday. 
Here we air ; come in. 

"‘Well, Miss Prink, heow d'ye du .?" 

Miss Prink: ‘‘Oh, you are the lady that wants the lilac silk 


310 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


made. There's been a mistake somehow. They haven’t sent 
half enough. ” 

Charity: ‘‘Lor’, I’ll run right back. I declare, I’m skeered. 
Mebbe the arrand boy took it. I bought seven yards.” 

Miss Prink: ‘^Oh dear me, madam, seven yards won’t do. 
It takes fourteen. ” 

Charity : ‘‘Land o’ liberty ! I hain’t never used more’n seven 
in my life. Used to get five or six, but sence it’s the fashion tu 
wear hoops I’ve had another breadth. I sha’n’t fling my money 
tu the pigs. Besides, I knows the ways o’ you York dressma- 
kers. You kin make it if you like.” 

Miss Prink : “I really don’t see how.” 

Charity : “Yes, you du — and I want it tu sot slick, tu, fur it’s 
fur a pertikelar occasion. P’int o’ fact. I’m about tu be united 
tu a legal lawyer o’ this city, and bein’, as he sez, the elect o’ 
York will be tu church tu observe us, I don’t want no wrinkles 
in my back. ” 

Miss Prink : “There won’t be stuff enough for any.” 

Tabby Mouser : “He! he! he!” 

Miss Prink : “I mean no back. You’d better gei seven yards 
more, madam. You’d of course want a nice train with a wed- 
ding dress, and sleeves take a width. ” 

Charity : “I want short sleeves and low neck, and a flounce.” 

Miss Prink : “Oh, my!” 

Charity: “Hey.^^” 

Miss Prink : “Where’s the flounce .o come from, miss? 

Charity: “What you don’t make sleeves of.” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


3^1 


Tabby : ''You will look sweet in a low body, dear/' 

Charity: "Of course I shall. And I don't care fur no great 
width of a flounce." 

Miss Prink : "I hope not. ma'am. And it's fair to warn you 
that you'll only have four breadths, and that the skirt won't come 
to the ankles. " 

Charity: "Well, I don't keer tu trail my petticuts through 
the mud. And I'm goin' tu hev rosettes put ontu my slippers, 
so't I shouldn’t like tu hev my feet hid up. Here's some old 
caliker fur facing, and some gilt buttons. I expect they'll tax 
all creation fur a bridewell bunnit." 

Miss Prink groans, and begins to cut out the waist. 

Charity stands up to be fitted. 

Tabby Mouser (to milliner's girl) : "The idea o' her gettin' 
married. " 

Girl : "There's hopes for everybody." 

Tabby: "Why, she’s a dreadful age. She was grown up 
when I was quite a little gal. I should think she'd be ashamed 
of herself to get married now. Well, poor man ! I pity him.” 

Girl : "Ain't she a good temper?” 

Tabby : "You might judge by her expression. And just look 
at that lilac against her yaller skin." 

Girl : "The short sleeves and the skirt is what I'm thinking 
of” 

Charity : " How does it fit?" 

Tabby: "Oh, splendid! Lilac is just what you ought to 


wear. 


312 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


Girl : ‘‘Oh ! how becoming it will be with bracelets V 
Charity: “Fve got some wax beads I shill string. Now 
mind, Miss Prink, sew it strong. I think, come tu consider, I 
sha n’t buy no bunnit. A yard o' bobbinet and a wreath o' 
3ranga blossoms will du tu wear tu the altar, and Fll hev my 
last bunnit trimmed with green, and wear the vail along with it 
tu travel. Fll come arter the gound a Mcnday, Miss Prink. 
Good-by. Fm goin' tu du some more shoppin', and arter that. 
Tabby, Fll go hum tu tea with you, tu where you air visitin', 
fur I ain't sot up. Tabby, by bein' elewated in serciety, and shill 
be jest as afferbul and condescending when I'm the bride o’ a 
legal lawyer as I hev been all my life. I sha’n’t take no airs 
over you. Tabby, and whenever none o' the elect o' New York 
ain't visitin' me shall allers be glad tu put you in my spare." 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


313 


NUMBER THIRTY-NINE. 

A LEAF FROM CHARITY GRINDEr's DIARY ON HER WEDDING-DAY. 

Fust o' September, 7 o'clock. — I open these here pages fur tu 
sot down my emotions on my weddin' mornin'. Me and Per- 
kins is tu be married at harf-parst ten. Tabby Mouser is tu be 
bride-maid. What an envious critter she is ! Thank fortune, I 
warn't made like her. She's been detractable toward Perkins. 
Made remarks consarnin' his nose, and said she hoped tu gra- 
cious when she was made one her espouzed wouldn't be an old 
bachelder. 

‘‘An old fiddlestick's end," sez I. “Du you like widivers?" 

“ No," sez she. “ But young men is more agreeable." 

“Lor'," sez I, “should think you'd hev some one o' a soot- 
able age, ef you hed any one. " 

Sez she, “Sootable.!^ Why, I'm ages younger'n what you be. 
I look old on account o' ill-health. " 

“You're strong as a boss," sez I, “and you're a seniority o' 
mine, any way. " 

“I hain't," sez she. “You was growed up when I was a 
little critter. Only I was intellectable and got took notice of 
by growed-up folks." 


314 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


And I didn't say nuthin' more, for she was tu put up my back 
hair in a waterfall, and I knowed ef I made her mad 'twouldn’t 
be done straight. So we made up, and I expect that’s her at the 
door now. 

9 o’clock. — I’m dressed in my bridal costoom. How my 
heart does palpertate. Perkins is cornin’ round the corner in a 
cab. I see his nose a’ready. Now he’s speakin’ tu the driver. 

Adoo, dear pages. When I write ontu you agin I won’t be a 
blushin’ maiden no more, but a married matron, united intu 
matermony tu a legal lawyer. I’ll be Mrs. Perkins, not Charity 
Grinder. Adoo, scenes o’ my galhood ! A new life is before 
me. 

Fust o’ September, 9 o’clock at night. — I wonder w’hether I 
couldn’t hev the law o’ Perkins. Oh, the wretch ! The de- 
ceivin’ critter ! 

I allers said beware o’ the men sect, and now I suffer fur not 
bewarin’ o’ them myself. I thought it was bad enough tu be 
half eloped with, but this is wuss. 

We arriv at church all safe, and found the minister there. He 
made us stand up before him. A gentleman Mr. Perkins had 
fur groomsman stood behind him, and Tabby Mouser stood be- 
hind me. The minister said a few words about the objict o’ 
marryin’ and the juties o’ them that was, then sez he : 

“Lawyer Perkins, now I want to know whether you’ll hev 
this lady fur tu live with discordant tu the state o’ matermony.? 
take care on her, whether ’tis well or only middlin’, or confined 
tu bed? and be a good pervider as long as you live?'’ 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


315 


Sez Lawyer Perkins, I will/' 

He might o' sed more on sich an occasion. 

Sez the minister tu me : 

"'Miss Grinder, I feel tu be obliged tu ask you whether you 
air willin' tu hev Lawyer Perkins fur your lawful, legal, wedded 
pardner ?" 

‘^Well," sez I, hev made up my mind tu, though, arter 
my disdain o' the hull men sect, it does seem kinder curus. 
But you see he felt tu be wretched on account o' my scorn, and 
I gin in. I hope I sha'n't regret it." 

Minister goes on : 

‘'Will you obey him, and honor him, and stick tu him all 
your life.'^" 

“Well," sez I, “I dunno about givin' up my own way; but 
1*11 do what I think best. And I sha'n't stay from hum much. 
I’m no great gadder. " 

Then he pronounced us man and wife, and shook hands with 
us, and we all went and had oysters at a restaurant. Then 
Tabby went along o' us, and the groomsman took his departer, 
and we driv hum tu Mr. Perkins' house. 

'Twas a shaky old frame; but I knowed he was a bachelder, 
and hadn't had no great o' a habertation, and besides we was re- 
solved tu live tu Peekskill. But there was suthin' queer about 
the place, and that was the noise o' children. 

“Lawyer Perkins," sez I, “you didn't tell me how't you had 
tenants." 


Well, I hain’t, sez he. 


3i6 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


‘^Some o' the neighbors in, perhaps," sez 1. 

He didn't say nothin’. He walks us intu the parlor — a nasty, 
dirty place, all cobwebs — and goes out again. 

“Bridget," I hears him call, “fetch up the children." 

Then he comes in agin. Arter a while up comes feet, stamp- 
in’ and scrapin’, and in walks the help. 

“This is your new missus," sez he. 

‘ ‘ Good mornin’, ma’am, ’’ sez she. 

“Heow d’ye du.?" sez I. “You and me has got tu get tu 
work cleanin’ pretty soon, I reckon, by the •looks o’ things. 
And you hadn’t orter hev all the neighbor’s young ’uns intu your 
master’s house." 

Lawyer Perkins looks womblecropt, and sez he ; 

“Miss Grinder, mum — I mean Mrs. Perkins, mum — I have 
an explanation tu make, mum." 

“Go ahead and make it," sez I. 

“I believe you supposed me a bachelor, mum," sez he. 

“Eh?" sez I. 

“A bachelor, mum," sez he. “The fact is, I have always 
been an admirer of the fair sex, mum ; and there was a former 
Mrs. Perkins, mum ; long deceased, mum. Previous to which, 
mum, she eloped with a clerk of mine, mum, and all the ready 
money there happened to be in the house, mum, which was not 
much, Mrs. Perkins, mum, I assure you." 

“Land o’ liberty!" sez I, “do you durst confess to be an 
abominable widder." 

He goes harf down ontu his knees, and sez ; 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


317 


'‘She left me a pledge o' her affection, mum — a memento of 
our hours of felicity. Allow me to introduce them, mum. 
Children, come and kiss your new mamma !” and in comes 
eight o' the dirtiest young 'uns I ever sot eyes onto. 

" There are Washington, Napoleon, Agrippa, Cleopatra, Pla- 
temy, Augustus, Cynthia, and Aurora," sez he. "Ther' pet 
names is Washy, Pony, Grippy, Pat, Lemy, Gust, Cinth, and 
Rory, mum," sez he. 

“ Eight on 'em," sez I. I couldn't say nuthin' more. 

“Eight angel blessins !" sez he. “ Grippy ain't you ashamed 
of pinching your sister Cinth at such a moment. They need 
a mother s care, mum." 

“And soap and water, tu, I should think," sez I. “The 
late Miss Perkins had plenty of 'em, anyway. " 

“She always presented me with twins," sez he. 

“Should think she did," sez I. “Any more of 'em?" 

“No," sez he, no moTe cMdren.” 

“Out with it," sez 1. “The hull truth, and nuthin' du/ the 
truth. " 

“Well," sez he, “I have the happiness of informing you that 
your hours of loneliness during my absence will be cheered by 
the presence of my late wife's mother, Mr§., Bamberry, mum, 
who is confined to her bed the best part o’ the time with rheu- 
matism, and by the society of her maiden daughter, who is at 
present absent. " 

“She'd better stay," sez I. 

*'She is certain tu return, mum,'' sez he. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


318 

“Well/^ sez I, ‘‘of all tricks tu play upon a body? You a 
legal lawyer, too. I’ll hev a divorce. ” 

“You never asked me whether I’d been married,” sez he. 

“’Tain’t the marryin’, it’s the young ’uns,” sez I. “I ain’t 
a-goin’ tu stay here. I’ll go hum.” 

“You may depart, mum,” sez he. “I shall not bar your 
way, mum ; but remember you consign me to despair, mum. 
When the heart’s best affections have been awakened, tu have 
’em crushed is death, mum. To look intu eyes made to ex- 
press emotions and tenderness, mum, and read scorn in them, 
mum, is to be cast from the heights of bliss, mum, tu the char-. 
nel-house of despair. I confess my guilt, mum ; but had I not 
temptation, mum? Allow me to lead you to the mirror, mum. 
Can you wonder when you gaze upon that fair reflection, mum, 
that it beguiles weak man to err, mum ? And when combined 
with such charms as you reflect upon the qualities of mind and 
heart, mum, and the loneliness of my lot, mum, can you blame 
me? No, gentlemen of the jury — I mean Mrs. Perkins — mum, 
that were impossible. But go, charmer — leave the one who 
loves you tu despair. There yet remains in the chemist stores 
of old New York laudanum and arsenic. There is a river and 
a morgue for the w^ry. Farewell, mum.” 

‘‘Well,” sez I, “seein’ you feel so bad, I reckon I’ll forgive 
you. Take them young ’uns down stairs, Bridget, and get a 
kettle o’ hot water fur ’em ; and if there is a place clean enough 
tu eat in we’ll hev tea. Things ain’t goin tu be as they air here 
if we only stay a week. '' 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


319 


rd been consideratin', and though Mr. Perkins had deceived 
me, and though he did deserve tu be put in jail, he was the fust 
husband Pd ever had, and I didn't want tu get rid o' him before 
they, that has said I couldn't if I would, had seen him. Be- 
sides, he is a legal lawyer, and a fine figger of a man, and has 
the most intilectible nose I ever sot eyes on. But I'll hev it out 
o' Miss Bamberry and her darter, and them young 'uns, as sure 
as my name is Miss Perkins. 


320 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER FORTY. 

THE LATE MISS GRINDER HAS QUEEN EMMA TO TEA. 

I ain't Miss Grinder no more. Fm Miss Lawyer Perkins. 
Them that has said I couldn't if I would, know the truth o' 
their dissertions now. I allers hev felt tu scorn and despise 'em. 
Now I feel tu pity 'em ; though it's only my nobility o' soul that 
makes me du it, fur they ain't deservin' o' no pity. Suppose 
they talk agin me now wuss than ever. Poor old maids ! 

At present we're residin' to York. I've had the house fixed 
up consid'rable, and I’ve had all the young 'uns sent tu a board- 
in'-school o' a cheap denomination, and give the late Miss Per- 
kins' ma and sister orders to quit They air a-goin' tu their 
cousin Jenning's Monday, and the help has left, and I've got 
another by the name o' Jane. I keep her at it 
Airly as it is I have Perkins under my thumb. He doesn't du 
nuthin' without my orders. You see / hev the money, and un- 
til he gets clientudes he won’t have none. I keep remindin' 
him of that 

He sot up purty high about the late Miss Perkins' relation- 
ships goin' ; but he's gin in at last I believe he's goin' tu pay 
their board on the sly. I’ll watch him, though. Married life 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


321 


has its troubles — I didn't never know how great they was. Ther's 
his temper, and his buttons, and darnin' his stockin's, and see- 
in' he don’t look arter pretty gals, or be perlite tu designing 
widders. Men is so deceptive. 

It takes half the time tu patch 'em and the rest half tu watch 
'em. There's a young help down the street that allers sweeps 
the walk just as Lawyer Perkins goes past mornin’s. I think it 
is premedulated ; but I've gin him warnin' what'll happen if he 
takes notice on her. He sezs : 

‘‘Mrs. Perkins, mum, can you suspect either my eyes or my 
heart of wandering when such charms dwell at home, mum, 
under the name o' Mrs. Perkins.?" 

But he wanted a five-dollar bill just then, and was nat'rally 
perlite. However, I warn't goin' tu tell you about him, but 
what happened a spell ago. 

One night, a few weeks arter I was in the enjoyment o' con^ 
nuble solicitude, him and me was sottin' in the parlor, when he 
sez tu me ; 

“ Have you read, mum, of Queen Emma's arrival in the city, 
mum .?" 

“Yes, I have," sez I; “and I tell you what. Lawyer Perkins, 
I mean tu have her tu tea. " 

“Eh!" sez he. “Pardon me, Mrs. Perkins, mum, but I 
scarcely comprehend." 

“Well," sez I, “I mean tu send Queen Emma an invite tu 
tea." 

Sez he, “Mrs. Perkins, mum, I fear royalty would scarcely 
honor our humble board with its presence." 


322 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


‘‘They say she ain’t a bit stuck up,” sez 1. “Anyway, I’ll 
ask her.” 

Sez he, “I think it would be useless, mum.” 

Sez I, “Ef you durst to hinder me from hevin’ all the com- 
pany I want you’ll find yourself mistaken.” 

“You misunderstand me, mum,” sez he. 

“Well,” sez I, “jest don’t give me no reason tu, but take 
the note to-morrow and fetch back an answer. ” 

“A note, mum.?” sez he. 

“Tu Queen Emma,” sez I. 

“Oh,” sez he, lookin' very queer., I reckon he thought I’d 
spend tu much on company, or else he’d been a-flirtin’ with her, 
and was afeard it would all come out. An^^ay, I intended fur 
tu hev her come. Arter he had retired I sot down and writ the 
follerin’ : 

“ Miss Sandwich — Dear Mum : I sot down fur tu take the 
liberty o’ sendin’ you an invite tu tea. I shouldn’t hev pre- 
sumptioned tu du it only fur my elevated position in serciety. 
I’m the lady o’ a legal lawyer and move in the fust o’ circles, 
’Twon’t be no deirogation o’ you tu come tu see me, ef you aij 

a queen. My residenz is No. — D street, and we hev tea 

at six. Please answer by the bearer, my husband. Lawyer Per- 
kins, and believe me yours, with respex, 

“The late Miss Charity Grinder, 

“ Miss Legal Lawyer Perkins.” 

“Now,” sez I tu Perkins the next day, “you jest take this tu 
where Queen Emma is stopping and fotch hum an answer,” and 
he took it, larfin’ as ef ’twas a terrible joke, and sot out. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


323 


When he comes hum, sez I, ‘‘Well E 

Sezhe, “Hey?^' 

Sez I, “What did Queen Emma say?'' 

“Well," sez he, “she said she calkerlated she'd come, mum, 
ef she warn't otherwise engaged. 

“ Didn’t she send no perlite message about rejoicin' tu make 
Miss Lawyer Perkins' acquaintance?*' sez 1. 

“Well," sez he, “come to think dn't, she did." 

Sez I, “that's the way o' the men sect — they allers forget the 
importanttest p'int. " 

“We air inferior in such things tu yourn, mum," sez he ; and 
that's the wust o' Legal Lawyer Perkins— the more you blow him 
up the perliter he is ; can't have it out with him nohow. 

Well, seein' Queen Emma was cornin', I sot tu work and 
done up my preserves, and made cake and all kinds o’ goodies, 
and I told Legal Lawyer Perkins how't the minute he come hum 
he must go up and put on his best shirt and neck-tie, and when 
he come in tu call her Miss Sandwich, and not forget and go 
redressin' o’ her by her crissen name, and he promised tu. 

Well, I dressed in my weddin' gownd, and waited and waited, 
and four o'clock come and she hadn't arriv'. And then sez I tu 
the help : 

“Jane, you go down tu the corner and keep a bright lookout. 
Queen Emma is a-comin', and I don't want her tu miss the 
house. She's a furriner and don't talk American, and maybe 
might go astray." 

it a quane she is? ' sez Jane, 


324 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


sez I. 

‘‘Lor’ save us sez the gal. “Would she aven herself to 
come here and take tay wid yees 

Sez I, “We’re all free and equal here, only the helps; and I 
don’t consider it no honor, seein’ I be who I be.” 

She makes a courtesy, and sez she : 

“Mum, if ye plaze, if she’s a bit like Quane Victory she’ll 
come in her kerridge.” 

“Well,” sez I, “you watch the kerridges, tu ; but she may 
come in a stage.” 

“How’ll I know her.?” sez the gal. 

“She’s kind o’ cullered,” sez I, “and she’s a furriner. You 
ask her if she ain’t Queen Emma, and she’ll tell you.” 

Well, the gal went off, and in about an hour more she came 
back with a lady along o’ her. She was a good deal darker than 
I expected, and wasn’t dressed no great ; but she was smilin’ 
and noddin’ very afferbel indeed. 

I runs out, and sez I, “Why, here you air at last. Miss Sand- 
wich. I a’most gin you up. How air ye ?” 

She nods and grins. 

Sez Jane, “She’s the funniest quane ever I see. I’d a took 
her fur a nagur. And niver a word a body can understand does 
she know. ” 

“Why, la.? she’s a furriner, of course,” sez I. “Du take a 
seat. Miss Sandwich, ” and she sot down. 

Sez Jane, “I axed her was her name Quane Emma, and she 
said ‘Yes.^” 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


325 


‘^Excuse the help for not callin' on ye, Miss Sandwich," sez I. 

She nods, and sez she, ^^Yes, I Emma. Where is leetle 
baby.?" 

‘‘Eh?" sez I. ‘‘Lor, me and Legal Lawyer Perkins ain't 
got no famerly. " 

“Me no understand," sez she. 

“Oh !" sez I, adaptin' o' my langwidge to furrin understand^ 
in'. ‘ ‘ All gone baby — no baby — never had none. " 

“Oh !" sez she, clasping her hands. “ It is, den, dead .?" 

‘ ‘ Mussy, no, " sez I ; “ never was born. " 

Sez she, ‘ ‘ I comprehend not " 

Sez I, “I wish I understood Sandwich, but I don't" 

Jess then the door opened, and I knowed my spouze had 
arriv’. I runs out 

“Fix yerself, smart," sez I. “Miss Sandwich is here." 

“Eh?" sez he. 

“Queen Emma has come," sez 1. 

“Ah! ha! one of your little witticisms, Mrs. Perkins, mum," 
sez he. 

‘ ‘ 'Tain't, " sez 1. ‘ ‘ It's true ; and she's jest like other colored 

folks, only furrin. " 

Sez he, “I hope you air not feverish. Miss Perkins, mum." 

Sez I, “Law, no, I ain't crazy, if that's what you mean. Go 
up and fix, and you’ll see." 

So he went and fixed, and down he comes. 

Minit he enters, sez I, “Miss Sandwich, allow me tu inter- 
duce you tu my espoused pardner. Legal Lawyer Perkins, " 


326 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


She courtesies. He bows, starin' like a loon. Then he 
whispers tu me, ‘‘You air mistaken, I assure you, Mrs. Per- 
kins, mum." 

Sez I, “No, I hain't. Why, land o' liberty! 'tain’t sech a 
dretful honor." 

Then the tea-bell rung, and we all went down and sot by. 
Purty soon there come a knockin' at the basement door, and 
the gal answers and comes in. 

Sez she, “A gentleman, mum." 

Sez I, “Show him in." 

I was willin’ he should see Queen Emma and me was inti- 
mate, whoever he was. 

So in walks a man, bowin', and sez he, in furrin accent : 

“Madame, I understand you have kindly entertained my 
newly arrived nurse, Emma. I am oblige. She did lose her- 
self. I will now escort her home. " 

“Eh.?" sez I. 

“There she is, I see," sez he. 

“Why, thals Queen Emma," sez I; but Lawyer Perkins 
squoze my foot with his'n, and I begun tu think I was mistook. 
So I kept quiet. Then the colored woman flowed tu the furrin 
gentleman and kissed his hand and cried, and he sez : 

“She was my faithful nurse in the West Indies, and now that 
I have marry, I send for her to nurse my child. I thank you 
very much, sir and madame, for her entertainments." 

“Always delighted tu be of use," sez Lawyer P,, and put they 

walks. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


327 


rd a mind tu tear her eyes out, only I didn't want tu be larfed 
at What is the use o' a tongue if you dunno American ? I 
bet the critter thought she'd parse herself off fur Queen Emma. 
Couldn't be so stupid as not tu know what I said, when I talked 
as furrin as I could. 

Lawyer Perkins condolated with me, and sed 'twas a nat'ral 
mistake, and that mebbe Queen Emma would come next day, 
and she didn't Good reason why ; fur a week arter, when I 
was huntin' his pockets fur love letters, I found mine tu her. 
He hadn’t never gin it He didn’t hev much sleep that night, I 
reckon I kin hear him tors and groan yet If it hadn’t a 
been fur his neglectin' my orders. I'd hev had Queen Emma tu 
tea, and had it tu write tu Tabby Mouser and Jonathan, and the 
rest tu Peekskill ; and I wouldn t hev thrown away my sass and 
cake on a colored help, and the neighbors would hev seen a 
coach and six horses fixed up with wampum and gilt driv tu the 
door, and Queen Emma would have got out with her crown and 
feathers, and a trail a yard long ; and they'd a knowed that I was 
somebody o' gentilitude and intellectability, and gin me proper 
respect fur the future ; and this is a warnin' tu me not tu trust 
the men sect with nuthin'. The best on 'em is deceivin' traitors. 
Like enough. Legal Lawyer Perkins thought she'd bring some o' 
the Sandwich noblemen along, and was jealous. That's one 
o' the ill conveniences o' bein' a person o' considerable good 
looks and attractin' attention. Your pardner will be jealous. 


328 


THE GRINDER PAPERE 


NUMBER FORTY-ONE. 

LAWYER PERKINS WINKS. 

Oh, Legal Lawyer Perkins, don’t tell me ! Do you .think 1 
haven’t got no eye ? Don’t you see ’em turned up tu Aurory, 
wonderin’ at your conduct ? Pd have you tu know that there 
have been them as has knowed my vally ef you don’t. There’s 
them that would a-given their two eyes out o’ their head fur a 
smile o’ mine, and it’s fur this here that I have scorned ’em all. 
Men, you ain’t fit fur tu black their boots fur ’em. The fust 
magnits o’ literary serciety has gin me their intentions, and has 
committed feller-de-spree on account o’ my coldness. I used tu 
be called the Iceberg o’ Peekskill on account o’ the coldness o’ 
my conduct tu the gentlemen sect. I’ve had twenty-five propo- 
sitions o’ nuptial marriage, and no eend o’ serenades ; and I’ve 
been eloped with twice and a arf, and I might have had more’n 
one o’ the Presidents o’ these United States, and a perfesser o’ 
knowledge in a college, and I condescended tu hev a legal law- 
yer without a t’other coat, and there is my thanks. 

What have you done } Oh, you critter ! you pison sarpint o’ 
serciety, you know ! You’ve winked at the help. I seen you. 
You winked at her with your left eye. Don’t deny it. And 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


329 


look a-here, Legal Lawyer Perkins, ef you want a drink o' water, 
tu cover your confusion o' countenance, you go and git it out o' 
the kokernut dipper ontu the back porch, and don't muck up 
my goblicks that I’ve shined up till they're as nice as dimonts, 
and you can see your phizmogony intu 'em like glass. 

Whatever you have tu say o' me arter I’m dead and gone, you 
can’t say how’t I didn’t have my house like wax, and devote my- 
self tu your comfort, you ungrateful man. That very puddin' 
you've been gobberlin' without a thought o' me, though proberly 
you was a ruminatin' ontu the help, was made by these hands, 
that some I v/on't mention would ha' been glad to call their own, 
but that you don't vally one mite. Oh, don't tell me, Lawyer 
Perkins ! — and before you lean your head back agin my rockin'- 
cheer be pleased tu put your handkercher behind it ; there's tu 
much lard and hair dye on your hair tu improve my furniture — 
and when I'm expired o' cruelty and neglect, I want them that 
comes tu my funeral tu say, “ Plow good she kept her things." 
There, now, you're a-kickin' the table-leg. 

Law, yes, when I was a gal the folks used tu say, ‘^There's 
Charity, nowr She is sure tu make a good match. She’s got 
beauty, and afferbilitude, and manners that would be a credit tu 
the upper rank o' sercietude, and she's intellectahil — one o' the 
talentedest o' her sect — and there's suthin' about her, that you 
don't often see in a young gal, tu distract the distension E the 
most discernin’ o’the men sect." 

And there's other things they used tu say that my modesty 
won't allow me fur tu repeat, and here's the eend on't ; gone 


330 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


through the woods tu pick up a crooked stick at last. Ah I and 
tu be betrayed, and insulted, and wounded intu the tenderest 
feelings o’ my buzzum. Don’t you dare deny it. Legal Lawyer 
Perkins, you winked at her. No, you haven’t got tickdollaryou 
in your eye. Ef you had you’d go tu bed, and be lazier than 
what you be now. I haven’t a solitary doubt how’t that’s the 
reason you ain’t got no clientudes, you’re lookin’ out o’ the win- 
der tu wink at the gal sect the heft o’ the time. ’Twarn’t so bad 
when you was a widdiwer ; but now you be a married man, you 
might know better. ’Tain’t my own wounded feelin’s I’m think- 
in’ of, but the disgrace of bearin’ folks say, '‘There’s the late 
Miss Grinder. Miss Legal Lawyer Perkins’ pardner winkin’ at 
a help.” 

I’ve gin the gal warnin’, and engaged a humbly colored per- 
son, o’ middlin’ age, with one eye, and pitted, and told her how’t 
ef you was caught winkin’ at her she'd walk short meter. No, 
don’t tell that falsehood about the tickdollaryou. I wouldn’t 
believe you on your testament oath. 

Where air you goin’, eh Tu see a gentleman on bizness. 
Purty bizness, I calkerlate. Coin’ tu git a patent out fur wink- 
in’ at gals the best way, I shouldn’t wonder. Last time you 
went out on bizness, du you remember how you come hum at 
the solemn hour o’ twenty minits and a harf past twelve — me a- 
sittin’ up fur you ? Ah ! when I was a young and lovely critter 
that hed my own way, I never sot up fur nobody. I dunno but 
what I don’t desarve it. I knowed the men sect. No, don igo 


TItE GRINDER PAPERS. 


331 


a-lookin' repentant, Legal Lawyer Perkins. You know you hev 
done wrong ; repentitude won't undu it. 

Upon your honor you will tell the trewth.? Well, tell it, and 
don't attempt tu deceive vie. 

You was jealous Hey.? Why, land o' liberty! I hadn't 
never gin you no cause. 

Lawyer Perkins. — Yes, mum. I am aware, mum, that it 
was merely imaginary. But permit me to explain, Mrs. Per- 
kins, mum. Allow me to vindicate myself, mum. We mem 
bers of the bar have lively imaginations, mum. 

Charity. — Was it yer lively imagination that made you wink 
at the help .?" 

Lawyer Perkins. — Allow me, mum. A few days ago a gen- 
tleman — a warrior of the Union army, mum — called on me to 
know what redress he could have in a case of winking. A 
wretch had winked at his wife. I gave him advice, mum, and 
that night sat at my fireside thinkin' it over, mum. Said I to 
myself, '‘What if some villain should wink at Mrs. Perkins!'’ 
My blood boiled. If possible, I would punish him with the 
utmost rigor of the law, I thought. If possible, I would bring 
him to the gallows. But, thought I, the thing is impossible; 
Mrs. Perkins resembles Diana. No man could wink at Diana. 
Involuntarily I imitated the motion with my own eye. Our do- 
mestic entered at that moment, and I appeared to wink at her. 
That, mum, is a true statement of the facts, given under my 
hand and seal — I mean to say a veracious statement, mum. 

Charity. — Law! Well, p'raps it's true. I hope and trust it 


332 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


is. Jest take yer feet off the fender, and pick up that hat off 
the table. I don’t want the polish all scratched off. Consider- 
in’ who buys yer hats, you needn’t get the fuzz all off the crown 
so soon, nuther. Well, now you be home at ten, or I’ll fetch 
yer ; and come in the basement way, and rub yer feet, and don’t 
scratch matches on my new paper, and jest please remember not 
tu wake me up, fur I sha’n’t set up tu-night, p’raps, and don’t 
durst hang yer things on a cheer, but fold ’em and put ’em in a 
drawer. 

Lawyer Perkins. — Ahem ! Have you a five-dollar bill about 
you, mum.? 

Charity. — Well, I hev. What fur.? 

Lawyer Perkins. — To engage counsel for the defendant in 
Tibbs versus Boggins. 

Charity. — There it is. I hope you’ll clear that much. Don’t 
expect it, though. Your clientudes is costly, seems tu me. 

Lawyer Perkins. — Thanks and au revoir^ mum. I regret to 
absent myself, but juty calls, [Exit. ] 

Scene, street corner. Enter pretty housemaid ; also Lawyer 
Perkins. 

Lawyer Perkins. — You here, my dear.? Just time to go to 
the theater. Can’t stay for the afterpiece, though. 

Housemaid. — My ! How she sticks to house ! 

, Lawyer Perkins. — No matter, we’ll enjoy ourselves. A very 
nice play, my dear, and oysters and ale afterward. 

Housemaid. — And you’ll give me them gloves? 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 333 

Lawyer Perkins. — Certainly, angel. 

Housemaid. — Oh, you duck ! Go 'way. And what fibs you 
told about winking ! 

[Exit in an omnibus.] 


334 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


NUMBER FORTY-TWO. 

CHARITY RETURNS TO PEEKSKILL. 

New York, September, 1866. 

Dear Brother Jonathan : — Get the front room on the fust 
floor ready for me, and hev the walnut-tree bedstead put intu it, 
and a wardrobe, and a beurow, and four cheers, and a rocking- 
cheer, and the biggest lookin'-glass. Tm cornin’ back tu Peeks- 
kill fur good. ’Twould ha’ been a massy ef I hadn’t never come 
tu York ; but sich was tu be. After movin’ intu the fust circles, 
and livin’ in the heith o’ fashionable luxury. I’m obleeged tu put 
up with the old place agin. 

Of course it’s a blessin’ tu you, fur your wife is a shiftless crit- 
ter, that dunno enough tu go in when it rains ; but it’ll be a 
change tu me, pertickerly as I don’t like neither on ye. 

I allers hev spoke plain, and lashed the hypocrites, and I glory 
in it. I du, indeed. 

The reason I ain’t happy tu Peekskill is because there ain’t no 
one there o’ intellectability nor polish. Jest as rough and vul- 
gar as an old shoe the heft o’ ’em is. But needs must when the 
old gentleman drives ye. I’ve got tu come, and there’s an eend 
on’t. 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


335 


You’ll be surprised arter bearin' how't I was united tu a legal 
lawyer o' magnitude, and becomin' the queen o' serciety in 
York. But my feelin's Has been so wounded I'm obleeged tu 
fly the scenes o' my former triumph. 

Excuse the blots. I'm at present sheddin' tears, which is the 
occasion o' 'em. 

The 'mount o' it is I can't hev him hung without disgracin' o' 
myself. Ef I could hev him executed under a fictitious name 
I'd du it But 'tain't no credit tu a lady tu say her pardner was 
capitally punished, so I can't I'd like to bile him like a lobster 
— pitch him intu hot water, and take him out red. Arter my 
resolves tu eschew the men sect, and never be nobody’s pardner ; 
arter treatin' them as adored me with disdain, jest think o' my 
bein' took in by sich a critter at last ! It makes my blood bile. 
I don't so much keer fur his goin' off, fur he was an awful ex- 
pense and bother. But he went and took my two hundred and 
fortys with him in a carpet-bag. 

One night he comes in, and he rubs his hands, and he sots 
afore the fire, and sez he : 

''Mrs. Perkins, mum, I have glorious news, mum." 

"Hev you.?" sez I. "I hope it's a clientude." 

'^Well, mum," sez he, "it's better than a thousand clien- 
tudes." 

"Lor !" sez I. 

"Yes," sez he. "Now this cruel war is over, Uncle Sam, by 
which familiar name I allude tu our great country, mum, as an 


33<5 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


affectionate relative, has promised to make every inhabitant's 
fortune, mum." 

‘ ' Heow ?" sez 1. 

‘'By tu hundred and forties," sez he. 

“ IVe heerd on 'em, '' sez I, “but I don't quite see intu 'em. '' 
I didn't a bit, but I warn't goin' tu own up. 

Then he sez, “You've only got tu get a lawyer tu convert 
your money intu tu hundred and forties and realize double. '' 

Then he read a lot o' stuff out o' a paper, and it sounded 
purty good, and sez he : 

‘ ‘ I don’t desire to interfere ; but ef I was you, mum — I give 
you the advice gratis, mum, which I would only du for a con- 
nection by marriage — I would invest, mum, in the tu hundred 
and forties, mum." 

Sez I “I reckon I will" 

“Well," sez he, “you'll be richer than John Jacob Astor in 
a year ef you du. " ^ 

Sez I, “Heow am I tu du it?" 

“Well," sez he, “I thought the notion would strike you fa- 
vorably, so I fetched hum the dockyments. " 

And out he lugged a lot o' parchment and red tape. 

Sez he, “Jest sign these, and it's done. I’ll send it tu gov- 
ernment, and you'll begin tu realize tu-forties in a year." 

“Hey," sez I; “well, that's easy; and bein' as you air a 
legal lawyer, and we're pardners, why, it’s all right, I suppose." 

So I signed my name, and he buttoned up the papers in his 
coat 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


337 


All night long I dreamed about bein' a queen and hevin' my 
dress looped up with diamonds, and when I woke up Legal 
Lawyer Perkins was^dressin' tu go out. 

'"You're airly," sez 1. 

'"Yes," sez he. '"I want to catch Uncle Sam before he goes 
out, mum." 

'"Why," sez I, "what hev you got your portmantle fur.?" 

Sez he, '"Tu fetch hum the tu hundred and forties in." 

""Well," sez I, "don't tell nobody what you've got intu it, or 
you'll hev it hooked. York is an awful wicked place." 

'"So it is, mum ; you are correct as usual in your remarks, 
mum," sez he, and off he goes without waiting for his break- 
twist. 

I had mine, and then I went up stairs tu derange the bed- 
room. Land o' liberty ! fust thing I noticed was that his shirts 
and stockin's was gone. I begun tu get -skeered. Either he's 
took 'em or they was stole. I# was a victim o' repressed agger- 
tation, but I didn't say nothin'. I relieved my feelin's by heatin' 
up the piller. As I punched his'n, suthin' tumbled out. Land 
o' Goshen I 'twas a note tu me. I jest send it fur you tu read : 

Mrs. Perkins. — Madam : When you discover that I have left 
New York, pray do not be alarmed for my safety. Your kind- 
ness in signing your property over to me has placed me in com- 
fortable circumstances. Before this reaches you I shall have left 
for Europe. As a lawyer, with some knowledge of legal mat- 
ters, I respectfully inform you that the papers are all judiciously 
prepared, and that, having signed them (I allude to what we 


338 


THE GRINDER PAPERS. 


playrully spoke of as the two-forties), it is beyond your power to 
revoke the signature, either to those or the articles of separation 
I drew up last night. Besides, I have been- just and generous. 
Your money in the bank and the oil farm are mine ; but your 
place at Peekskill is yet your own. Why not retire there But 
time presses ; I must close With many thanks for your oblig- 
ing signature, I sign myself. 

Yours, Perkins. 

It’s all true, Jonathan. He had made a fool o’ me, and with 
my sagacitude, think what a knowin’ critter he must ha’ bin ! 

I went intu highstrikes, and wouldn’t be fetched tu fur hours, 
arter I’d found out he really had my money, and I’m goin’ tu 
auction the furniture and start fur Peekskill. What’s my loss is 
your gain, and I know you will be delighted ; but it’s a come 
down fur me, I tell ye. 

Tell your wife to hev turkey the day I come, and biled onions 
and cranbysarce ; and I shill want the closet on the entry fur my 
trunk and numberill. And now I come to think on’t, put the 
mahogany stand in my room, tu, and the big lamp with a globe, 
I shall set there a good deal, fur your serciety won’t be agreeable 
to me arter the intillectabil folks I’ve bin used tu. And send the 
wagon down to fetch me — remember. 

Your affectionate sister. 

Miss Legal Lawyer Perkins, 

(Late Miss Grinder.) 

P. S. — Things does happen tu unship, you know, and he 
may git drownded on his way tu Europe, There’s that comfort 


THE GRINDER PAPERS, 


339 


left fur me. ’Tain't much, because I reckon he meant tu be 
hung, and water won't tetch him. But whatever happens, I 
sha’n't incurridge the intentions o’ none o’ the men sect. I 
know them now, the critters — a connivin’ set o’ wretches. No, 
don’t give ’em no hopes o’ that. I’m firm. 

P. P. S. — Jest thinkin’ on’t, is General Brownbags o’ the 
tavern a widdiwer yet } Ah, them that has broke hearts does 
sometimes come to repentance. I treated him shameful. You 
might jest mention how’t I warn’t sure but Legal Lawyer Per- 
kins might git drownded goin’ over, and how’t I’d asked arter 
him. Ajeu, Jonathan, 

Your onhappy sister. 

Miss L. L. R, lateC. G. 


THE END. 


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Toilet Soap which so closely 

Comes up to my Ideal of perfection; 

‘‘ its purity is such that it may be used with perfect confidence 
“ upon the tenderest and most sensitive skin — EVEN THAT 

“ OF A NEW BOM BABE.” 



has maintained its reputation as the best of all Toilet Soaps 
for more than One Hundred Years. 

It represents a .CENTURY’S EXPERIENCE of the 
most successful achievements in the Art and 
Craft of Fine Soap making. 

1^ : 714 IS 



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